


Abattoir

by babybrotherdean



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Supernatural
Genre: BAMF John Winchester, Blood and Gore, Case Fic, Child Murder, Fluff, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Gen, Horror, Protective John Winchester, Psychic Sam, Summer, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: The summer of 1989 brings John Winchester to a kid's restaurant in Wyoming; one that's surrounded by the unsolved murders of several children. He decides that it's about time for somebody to put the pieces together, no matter how gruesome they might be.He never meant for Sam and Dean to get involved./ˈabəˌtwär/a slaughterhouse; massacre.





	Abattoir

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited about this fic.
> 
> You don't need to know the FNAF games to understand the fic, I don't think, so don't worry about that! For those of you who do know the franchise, notes on canon/how stuff fits into this fic will be included in the end notes.

It's a slow, sleepy drive towards Wyoming, cruising up along the I-25 at four o'clock in the morning, and it's as good a reflection as any of how the last several weeks have been for John.

It seems like every supernatural entity in the continental United States has gone quiet all at once. Every ghost, every werewolf, every demon; he hasn't heard a peep from any of his usual sources or the local news of any of the few towns they've rolled through, and he's gotten restless. Three months in one place is a hell of a long time for the pattern he's set, and the boys- dozing in the back seat now, curled tight around one another the way they usually are most days- were starting to put down too many roots.

John keeps telling himself that it's for their sake that they're on the road once again. The driver's seat of the car feels more like home to him now than any other place ever will, and he tries not to let himself feel selfish for imposing that on Sam and Dean.

Besides, it's not like he's driving aimlessly. Not anymore, at least; the reason he's pushing through the night to begin with is because he's just a little over-eager about an urban legend he'd caught wind of a couple states back. It's a weak lead at best, but at this point, rumours are the best he can hope to work with, and he needs to stretch his legs. Even if it turns out to be nothing, just the opportunity to throw on a fed disguise and snoop around a little will hopefully settle that itch that's been creeping in on himself of late.

That's what he hopes, anyways. He knows constant movement can't be good for his boys, but he's trying. With any luck, Cheyenne will land him an easy salt-and-burn case to settle himself, and will give the boys somewhere to stay for a while that'll make them happy until they inevitably need to leave again.

The first hints of sunrise are just trickling across the horizon when he enters the city limits, and he breathes out slowly, starting to scout for a motel.

John's sure he'll find something here worth checking out. Even if that just means some fresh scenery to keep him entertained until the itch strikes again, it'll be better than the nothing he’s been working with so far.

The Day and Night Inn doesn’t look like it’s got much to offer besides a few old mattresses and shitty cable, but realistically, John doesn’t need a whole lot more than that. The boys are still sound asleep when he parks the car, slipping out quietly to go book them two queens. At the crack of dawn, the manager looks less than pleased to see him, but he doesn’t bother with small talk and hands over his money, which is apparently more than enough to coax the key out of her possession and into his hand. He returns to his little family a couple minutes later and manages to rouse them, stumbling and sleepy as they are, just enough that they can make it to the room, bags slung over John’s shoulders as he herds them inside.

They’re out again as soon as they get their shoes off and crawl into the far bed, and John can’t really blame them. He’s completely drained after so many hours on the road, and he’s barely got it in him to lay down the salt lines in front of the doors and windows before all but collapsing into his own bed, breathing out a heavy sigh.

The case will wait another few hours while he tries to rest. It didn’t read to him as terribly urgent, so he doesn’t feel bad about closing his eyes and settling down for a nap. Besides, he can’t go anywhere until the boys are at least alert enough to listen to safety instructions, so it’s easy to convince himself that this is just for their benefit.

Whether or not that’s entirely true, it doesn’t stop him from dropping off right away, body aching for the chance to recuperate and recharge. It’s no good going into a job like this half-cocked, anyways.

* * *

When Dean begins to stir several hours later, he doesn't move much, just opting to curl a little closer around the small form he recognizes as his brother without opening his eyes. They've moved around like this often enough that it isn't terribly disconcerting to be waking up in an unfamiliar bed; he can hear his dad breathing nearby and Sammy is safe in his arms, so he knows there's nothing he needs to worry about.

Dad doesn't tell him everything about his job, but Dean knows enough to understand that they don't move around like this for no reason. It's been upsetting Sam that they're so unsettled recently, and Dean's been trying real hard to distract him from it all, 'cause that's pretty much all he can do to help. He keeps his little brother happy and safe while his dad fights monsters, as scary and pretend as it sounds, and this new town- whatever they're here for, he knows it's gotta be a good reason. It always is.

What it means for now, though, is that he's only got a few precious minutes left in bed before his dad starts to wake up and get moving. He always likes to get started early, and when Dean squints his eyes open enough to get a peek at the clock, it's almost noon. Already late.

Dad's still fast asleep by the look of him, so Dean snuggles back up to his brother and buries his nose in Sam's soft hair. Sam's good like that, soft in pretty much every way there is, and Dean's always done everything in his power to keep it that way. Protecting his little brother has always been his job, and most days, that means keeping him safe from the reality of the world they live in. It means lying to him about what their dad does for a living, and comforting him when they have to leave another town and he's gotta be the new kid all over again. Dean's used to it by now, but Sam's barely even started school, and he can imagine that it's a pretty rough way to begin.

At least this time, they don't have to worry about that part too much. They're well into summer vacation, and Dean knows they likely won't be in this town until September. No new schools yet, so for now, it's mostly just a matter of finding ways to spend their time, wherever they might end up on any given day. He's pretty good at keeping Sam busy, and as soon as he gets a chance to poke around this town a little bit, he's sure it won't be any different this time around.

Of course, all of that depends on his dad and brother waking up sooner or later. They're both still snoozing away, so Dean entertains himself by playing with Sam's hair. It's still all baby-soft, slipping right between his fingers even though it isn't very long. Just like always, though, Sam starts to stir as he continues, snuffling against Dean's chest and nuzzling closer while his little fingers flex in their grip on Dean's shirt.

"Hi, Sammy," Dean whispers, watching as his little brother starts to rouse himself properly. "Wakey-wakey."

Sam finally peeks out from his spot and squints up towards Dean, still looking sleepy and confused. Cute, too, 'cause he always looks cute, but mostly sleepy. "Dean?"

Dean just smiles and gives him a big kiss right on the forehead, pleased with the way it makes Sam huff at him and squirm a little. "Hiya."

Sam worms around in place before sitting up, looking around the new room the same way he always does. Dean's started to let them all blur together in his mind, but Sam- Sam seems to like them all individually. Dean's been saving up all the money he can for a while now so maybe he'll be able to get his little brother a camera one day, so he can take pictures of all the funny decorations they find. "Where are we?"

"Dunno." Dean shrugs, sitting up along with Sam and glancing at the bed alongside theirs. Dad's still asleep, but judging by his wrinkled-up forehead, it won't be for long. "But we're here. That's good, right?"

Sam looks entirely too skeptical for a first-grader, but Dean grins at him and he apparently decides it isn't worth the effort. "Are we gonna eat soon?"

When Dean throws another glance towards the clock on the wall- like a little moon, with craters and all- it reminds him that they're already a little ways into the afternoon, and his grumbling tummy reflects that. "I hope so. We just gotta wait for Dad."

They both look at him that time, and whether it's the volume of their conversation or the combined force of their staring, he starts to stir, sighing and shifting around before slowly rolling over onto his back, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes as he exhales. Sam takes some initiative and carefully climbs down off of their bed to crawl into his instead, and Dean watches with interest as he curls right up to their dad, little hands pressing to his chest. "Daddy?"

Their dad grunts softly, rubbing at his face a little more before quickly scooping Sam up into his chest and wrapping him up in his arms. It elicits a startled squeak from Sam and Dean giggles as he watches his brother squirm.

"Mornin', Sammy," their dad sighs, slowly sitting up and rubbing a free hand over his face while the other arm keeps Sam close. "What's goin' on?"

"Hi, Dad." Dean beams at the pair of them, getting his legs all criss-cross-apple-sauce while he watches. "Sammy's hungry."

"S'that so?" Dad makes a thoughtful sound, still holding a squirming, giggling Sam against his chest. He squints in the direction of the clock, and then makes a face. "Huh. Yeah, I guess it's pretty much time for lunch, isn't it?"

"Lunch!" Sam cheers, finally accepting his fate and wrapping his arms around Dad's neck to hug him. "Please?"

Dad laughs and swings his legs over the side of the bed, rolling his shoulders back with a sigh while Dean scrambles off his bed and onto the floor, all but bouncing with excitement. "Yeah, yeah, alright," he murmurs. "Let's go grab something to eat."

He frees Sam a moment later, who immediately hurries after Dean on his way to get some clothes to wear. "Can we have pancakes?" Dean asks hopefully, peeking up towards their dad while he hauls a bag out of the little pile by the door. "I want pancakes."

That gets him a thoughtful hum, and Dean manages to free the bag he shares with his brother just as Dad joins them, grabbing his own duffle from the pile. "If we can find a place with pancakes, then we can have pancakes," he decides. "Sound good?"

Dean nods happily and flops down on the floor, unzipping the bag and starting to dig through it while Sam wiggles his way under Dean's arm to help look. "Thanks, Dad!"

Dad grins at them and waves before stepping into the bathroom, and soon enough, Dean’s managed to dig up a pair of shorts, a mostly-clean t-shirt, and a hoodie for Sam to wear- it’s warm out, but he figures there’s no harm in being prepared- then finds his brother a clean pair of socks and goes digging for himself again. Sam's just about finished getting dressed by the time Dean's up and ready to go, and he helps get Sam's arms and head through the right holes and takes a second to mess with Sam's hair before he's swatted away.

"We're ready!" Dean announces as he hurries over to grab his shoes with Sam right on his heels. He hears a laugh from the bathroom alongside the sound of the shower running, and he smiles wide before plopping down on the ground to help Sam tie his shoes.

By the time Dad rejoins them, they're both ready to go, waiting at the door and just about bouncing with excitement now that they're properly awake. He doesn't take long to get ready and they're being herded out the door a moment later, into the sunny parking lot and towards the car where it's parked near the room. It’s warm out today, as he’d suspected, and Dean stretches his arms high above his head and yawns on his way over, shaking out the last of the sleep from his limbs before hurrying to catch up to his family.

They load up into the back seat of the car while Dad gets her started, and Dean’s already plastered to the window, ready to keep an eye out for anything resembling the sort of restaurant that will sell them pancakes, as well as trying to get a sense of the new town in which they’ve found themselves. Sam’s right up beside him, seatbelt forgone in favour of surveying their unfamiliar surroundings.

“Cheyenne,” Dad tells them, glancing back in the mirror towards them. “Wyoming.”

The streets aren’t jam-packed, but they’re far from empty; it’s a bigger place then they usually wind up in, less small-town America and more a bustling little city. Filling the sidewalks, there are people in business attire, teenagers, children with their parents- they’re just coming up upon lunchtime for the day, and it shows in the foot traffic around them. It’s exciting, and Dean watches with wide eyes as they roll towards the busier downtown district.

“Pancakes!” Sam declares a moment later, crowding up beside Dean and pressing his hands to the window. Dean spots what he’s looking at, a little Mom and Pop diner coming up on the right, and it seems that Dad does, too, since he flicks on the turn signal and starts making his way through what little traffic there is. “Can we?”

“Already on it,” Dad promises with a huff of laughter, and they’re turning into the parking lot a moment later, slotting in right by the entrance just in time for Dean to wrestle the car door open. “Don’t get too far without me.”

Dean nods, and he’s already climbing out, feet hitting the ground and hands finding his brother to make sure that Sam doesn’t topple down onto the pavement. As much as he wants to hurry straight to the door- he’s already catching the scent of food in the air, wafting towards them from inside the building- he takes his brother’s hand in his and leads him around to wait for their dad while he gets out of the car, slipping his wallet into his pocket and smiling down at them. They head inside as a family unit, with one of Dad’s hands hovering at Dean’s back to guide him along, and Dean trying his very best not to get too over-eager about their breakfast.

“Morning,” Dad says to the smiling lady who meets them at the front. Dean lingers at his side, swinging Sam’s hand in between them while they wait, and peeks up just in time to see Dad glance at his watch. “Uh… afternoon, I guess. For three?”

“Follow me.” She smiles at them once more and turns to lead them towards the back of the diner. Dean looks around while they walk, taking in the handful of occupied booths and stools along the counter and wondering about all the people there. Are they having nice afternoons? Are they here with their families? Are they locals, or just visiting the way that Dean and his family are? They’re a whole bunch of strangers with a whole bunch of stories to tell, and it leaves him thoughtful and curious as they shuffle into their booth, Sam taking the inside seat while Dean scoots in beside him and Dad sits opposite them both.

“Pancakes,” Sam mumbles one more time once they’re handed their menus, and Dean can’t help his little grin. He’s trained his brother well, and he leans in close to help Sam pick through his options. He’s real smart, but he can’t read as well as Dean can yet, and there aren’t quite enough pictures in the menu for him to rely on today without a little extra guidance.

Dean picks himself the chocolate chip pancakes, and Sam ends up asking for blueberry, and they’re left with a glass each of chocolate milk while they wait. Dean keeps a careful eye on Sam while he drinks, ‘cause it’s a big glass and he’s still just little, but with the bendy straw, he’s doing okay so far, without any major spilling incidents. Dean barely even notices his dad talking to their waitress until he glances over, wondering why she’s still hanging around, and only then decides to tune into their conversation.

“The name sounds kind of familiar,” Dad’s saying, and Dean watches them both curiously. “Was it in the news or something, maybe? I swear I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

The waitress- Maddie, says her name-tag- gets a pinched sort of look on her face, like she’s trying to eat a lemon. “It’s been in the news a couple times, I guess,” she says after a long pause. “It just got some bad press after a couple- just some little incidents. It’s not a big deal.”

Dean recognizes the look on Dad’s face and he’s way more interested now, always eager to learn about the monsters that his dad is trying to hunt. “Sure, sure, I figured as much. The media, right?” Dad smiles pleasantly, and Dean casually turns his attention to his chocolate milk, pretending like he isn’t listening as close as he is. “I was just wondering if it’d be worth swinging by. Seems like the kind of place that’d be fun for the boys.”

That definitely catches Dean’s interest, but he tries his best not to look like it while Maddie replies, sounding a little uncertain. “I mean… it’s a kid’s place,” she says. Reluctant. “I guess it’s alright. Just… kind of gives me the creeps, is all. I guess the big robot animals were never really my thing. And the smell…” She’s quiet for another moment and when Dean sneaks a peek in her direction, she’s looking around, shifting her weight. “I should go check on some other customers. Your food should be out in a couple minutes, sir.”

She hurries off before Dad gets a chance to respond, and when Dean looks at him, he’s got a thoughtful expression about him, eyes a little distant. Dean knows enough to recognize the supernatural buzzwords their waitress had dropped without realizing it, and wiggles a little bit in place, excited. He can’t say anything here- not with Sammy right beside him, even as distracted as he might be blowing bubbles into his milk through the straw- but by the look Dad gives him when he tunes back in a moment later, Dean can only guess that he’s right in his suspicions. There’s more than enough here to investigate a little further, a case waiting to be solved and a monster waiting to be hunted down. People waiting to be saved, even if they don’t know it quite yet.

His dad smiles at them both a moment later, seemingly at ease even though he’s on the job. “Hope you guys are hungry. Looks like the plates here are pretty big.”

Dean smiles even bigger, nods, and goes back to his chocolate milk, swinging his legs under the table and offering Sam some of his drink when he runs out. It’s a good day so far, and he’s got a feeling it’ll only get better as it goes on.

Their pancakes come to them a moment later, and Dean doesn’t even try to hide the big grin on his face before he starts to dig in.

Yeah. Definitely a good day.

* * *

John gets enough from the waitress to confirm his suspicions; people in this town seem reluctant to talk about Fazbear Entertainment, like it’s just become a stain on their reputation. Not that he can blame them, after all the stories he’s managed to dig up. He still can’t believe they managed to reopen at all, after three failed restaurants all tied to the same tragic, bloody stories. History tends to repeat itself, especially when people don’t learn from their mistakes the first time around, and with every desperate attempt to leave the horrific rumours of missing and murdered employees and children in the franchise’s past, they seem to just make themselves more and more susceptible to another gruesome reminder.

It’s definitely a start, and though it’s a bit late in the stay to launch his investigation in full, John loads the boys back up into the car once they’re finished breakfast- more of a late lunch, all things considered- and tells them that they’re going for a drive around town. They’re both all for it, chattering and crowding up against the windows as they try to get a proper look at the new place, and he can’t help but smile to himself, quiet and fond. However long they spend here, and whether there’s a case to work or not, he swears they’ll find something fun to do for at least part of their time. It’s summer vacation, after all, and what good is summer for a kid if he can’t kick back and enjoy himself?

“I hear they’ve got a splash pad ‘round here somewhere,” he says casually, just so he can watch the boys go simultaneously wide-eyed as they immediately start looking around for it while they drive. It leaves John smiling, and he figures there’s no harm in hunting down something like that to keep them occupied while they’re in town.

Still, though, he’d be lying if he claimed there wasn’t an ulterior motive to this drive.

It isn’t hard to find the pizzeria once he turns onto the town’s main strip. It certainly isn’t trying to hide itself; several obnoxious signs announce Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza on the way down the road, and the restaurant itself stands out starkly from every building nearby, all bright colours and flashing lights. Its parking lot is mostly empty, and John suspects they’re in the mid-day lull between lunch and dinner crowds right now, or else the rumours are more potent than he’d initially thought.

Apparently, he isn’t the only one stuck staring.

“What’s that?” Sam asks, and John doesn’t need to look to see the star-struck look on the kid’s face. “It’s big!”

“Dad, it says there’s an arcade inside!” Dean chimes in, feeding into his little brother’s excitement, and John tries to hide his smile. “Can we go? Pretty please?”

John pretends to think about it for a moment, giving a thoughtful hum while he turns his eyes back to the road. “How about tomorrow?” he offers. “We can swing by for lunch and see what it’s all about, yeah?”

He gets a couple excited cheers in response and decides to take that as a yes.

It certainly seems like a solid plan; he won’t even have to worry about leaving the boys unoccupied while he conducts a more thorough investigation. They’ll have food to eat and things to do while he snoops around a little bit, and if it turns out there’s no case to be found… well, then they get some arcade games and some pizza. Sounds like a win-win.

For now, the rest of the afternoon can be dedicated to actually exploring the town. There’s no telling how long they’ll end up staying here, after all, and they might as well try to get familiar with it while they’ve got the chance. They’ll poke around, have dinner, maybe go out for a movie or something before they hit the hay- John’s in a good mood, and he wants to treat his boys a little. They deserve something nice, and he’ll do whatever he can to offer it to them.

The hunt will wait until morning.

* * *

As promised, it doesn’t take long to find the splash pad, and it only takes a little bit of begging before Dad turns the car around and drives them back to the motel to grab their swim trunks. Sam’s just about bouncing off every bit of the back seat, and Dean tries to be a little calmer- he’s the big brother, after all- but no matter how hard he fights, he can’t keep the giant grin off his face, keeping his hands firmly between his knees to help himself sit still.

Despite his best efforts, as soon as they return and Dad finds a parking spot, he’s tumbling out the back of the car right along with his brother, already changed and just about ready to strip his shirt off right there to run and join the other kids. They usually don’t stop in towns big enough to have these sorts of attractions, so the sight of the mini waterpark is a novel one, and already, he’s eager to play. He holds firmly onto Sam’s hand, though, and waits for their dad to join them. Rule number one is to never, ever run off alone in a strange place.

“I’m gonna be sitting right there,” Dad tells them, pointing to an empty bench off to the side of the concrete play area. “You need anything, you see anything weird- you come straight to me, alright?”

Dean nods dutifully, standing up tall with his chest puffed out ‘cause he knows his dad trusts him to do his job right. He’s in charge of looking after his little brother while they play, especially in a place like this where he might slip and get hurt. “Yes, sir!”

“That’s my boy.” Dad smiles, reaching out to ruffle Dean’s hair before giving him a nudge towards the splash pad. “Go on, you’re wastin’ daylight.”

They don’t need any more encouragement than that, and they’re off, Dean still holding on tight to his brother’s hand as they hurry towards the other kids, laughing and already wrestling their shirts off. Dean’s barely got the mind to steer Sam towards Dad’s selected bench and drop the clothes there before they’re going straight to the play area, and Dean lets his brother lead the way from there.

Sam heads straight for a line of water jets that shoot right up from the ground at different intervals, not hesitating a second before running straight into the streams and shrieking with laughter once they’re in the thick of it. Dean laughs, too; the water feels freezing at first touch, but it quickly becomes exactly the refresher they need on a day like today with the sun shining overhead, and it doesn’t take long to get right into it, happy to indulge.

There are plenty of other excited children around them, but the whole entire world feels like it’s just him and his little brother, holding hands or splashing each other or laughing while they run through little tunnels of water. They’re both soaked within a matter of minutes, hair wet and plastered to their skin without a moment’s chance to dry off in the sun.

It’s a proper little slice of childhood, something that Dean knows they’ve only had in bits and pieces. He’s old enough now to understand that most kids don’t grow up the way they’ve been, and that maybe it isn’t completely normal to live in motels instead of houses. Moments like this, though- this is how things are supposed to be. Running around with his baby brother with some other kids that could maybe be his friends, if he wanted them to be, cooling off on a hot summer’s day. Helping Sammy down a slide, shaking his hair out before getting soaked all over again, running around without stopping to wonder if it’s safe or if they’ll be leaving tomorrow… this feels good.

Whenever Dean peeks towards their dad, he’s on the bench, as promised, mostly just watching them with a smile on his face, and sometimes looking like he’s talking to other parents nearby. It’s of no special concern to him, and most of his focus is on cranking up the water pressure on a couple particular jets while Sam runs through them, giggling and waving at him. Dean’s grinning right back, standing up from where he’d been crouched over the little nozzle just in time to see the look on his brother’s face change from excitement to surprise as his feet slip out from under him, and he hits the ground hard, landing on his hands and knees with a pained cry.

Dean doesn’t spare a thought for anything in those next few seconds as he rushes over, eyes wide as he crouches at Sam’s side, trying to assess the damage. “Sammy? Sammy, are you hurt? What’s wrong? Where’s it hurting?”

It takes a moment for him to get his brother mostly upright, and Dean sits himself down right there in order to pull Sam into his lap, still inspecting him for injury while Sam gets over his initial sense of shock. By the time Dean spots the scraped knees, just starting to well up with little pinpricks of blood, Sam lets out a soft whimper and Dean goes straight to damage control.

“Hey, it’s not even that bad,” he tells Sam, voice all soft when he sees the beginnings of tears starting to build up in Sam’s eyes. “It’s not even bad, Sammy, see? S’just a little scrape, right? Not hardly anythin’ at all.”

To drive the point home, he gives his brother a big, wet kiss on the cheek, and the resulting giggle, although shaky, is reassuring. “See? You’re good. You’re already super brave, so this is nothin’. Besides, I’m gonna kiss it all better, ‘kay?”

Sam sniffles and reaches up to rub at his eyes, but he’s nodding, too, so Dean gives him a tight hug before leaning down and pressing a little kiss to one of his kneecaps, then the other, looking up at Sam afterwards to catch his brother peeking down at him between his fingers. “See? S’all better now, right?”

It takes a moment of consideration, but then Sam nods slowly, offering him a watery smile. “All better,” he repeats dutifully, and Dean gives him a big grin and goes right back to hugging him.

“You wanna go see Dad?” he mumbles into Sam’s hair, and gets a nod in response. “C’mon, buddy, I’m gonna carry you. Like a princess.”

Sam mumbles something about not being a princess, but Dean’s already gathering him up in his arms to stand and Sam offers no resistance, immediately clinging to him with chubby arms thrown around Dean’s neck to hold himself in place. Dean cradles his brother close to his chest, and when he turns to march towards their dad, he’s already standing, brow furrowed, apparently having watched the whole thing.

“I fixed Sammy,” Dean announces when they get close, presenting his brother for inspection. “But maybe he needs some bandaids an’ stuff, too.”

That manages to work a smile out of him, and he scoops Sam out of Dean’s arms a moment later, making Sam squeak and immediately start clinging to Dad, instead. “You alright, kiddo?”

Sam’s soaking a wet spot into Dad’s shirt, but neither of them seem to notice. “Dean kissed it better.”

“Did he?” Dad smiles, and Dean beams back up at him in return. “Sounds like you’re gonna be just fine. C’mon, we’ll slap a couple bandaids on there, and you’ll be good as new. ‘Sides, we should probably get going. It’s getting a little late.”

Dean accepts that without protest and happily trots after his dad while he tugs his shirt back on, unhindered by his dripping-wet hair or the swim trunks clinging to his skin. “Can we get pie for dinner?”

“How ‘bout we have pie after dinner?” Dad replies, sounding like he’s on the verge of laughter, and Dean heaves a dramatic sigh. “The place where we got lunch had pie on the menu. I want to see you eat at least one vegetable before dessert, though. And no, fries don’t count.”

Dean pouts at that, but continues after them all the same, eager to climb into the back of the car once Dad loads Sam inside. He immediately curls around his brother to make sure he’s okay, peeking up towards the driver’s seat once their dad’s joined them and settled in the front seat. “Do peas count?” he tries.

“Yeah, Dean.” Dad huffs out a laugh, and the engine rumbles to life around them. “Peas count. Pretty much anything green counts.”

That’s something, at least, and Dean perks up while they head back towards the motel. They’ve got to get dried and changed, and Sam needs his bandaids, and once they get there, they head inside together, with Dean once again taking responsibility for helping his little brother along, hovering to make sure that he doesn’t take another spill.

“You guys want to stay in tonight?” Dad asks once they’re back inside and he’s digging up the first aid stuff from their bags. “I can go out and grab dinner, you guys can stay here and get settled. See if we’ve got any good channels.”

Dean’s nodding before he’s even done, turning to grin at his dad once he’s sure that Sam’s seated comfortably on their bed. “Yeah! D’you think they’ve got the one with the old cop movies?”

“Only one way to find out.” Dad grins and grabs the remote on his way over, offering it to Dean before turning his attention to fixing up Sam’s scraped knees. Dean’s more than happy to start playing with the TV, turning it on and carefully inspecting each channel as he starts flipping around.

“There you go,” Dad says a moment later, and when Dean looks towards him, he’s straightening up again and zipping up the first aid kit. “All better?”

Sam’s smiling real big, kicking his legs happily. His knees have a couple bandaids apiece, the scrapes all hidden away, and it doesn’t take long for him to join Dean, curling up close and wiggling his way under his arm. “Better!”

“Good stuff.”

Dean keeps his eyes on the TV again as Dad heads to the door, waving as he calls out a “be good, I’ll be back in a minute.” All his attention has been sucked into exploring the dozen channels they’ve got, and he shifts around until he’s lying on his stomach, chin pillowed on one arm while he flips through their options, his little brother curled happily at his side.

He doesn’t end up finding any cop movies, but there’s a Godzilla one playing that’s just started, so he settles there and turns up the volume, pulling Sam close. “The big lizard destroys Japan,” he declares dramatically, and Sam giggles, squirming around in his grip. “He’s gonna eat ‘em all, Sammy. Like- like little caramels!”

“No!” Sam protests around his laughter. “That’s gross!”

Dean grins ‘cause he knows how much Sam likes his caramels at Halloween. “Okay, maybe people are a little crunchier. Like pop rocks.”

Sam wrinkles up his nose and then Dean’s laughing as his brother pushes his hand into his face. “No, gross!”

“Fine, fine, maybe people aren’t like candy.” Dean grins and proceeds to lick Sam’s hand, causing his brother to shriek and pull it away. “Unless you’re a giant lizard!”

Eventually, they settle down, curling up together once more to actually pay attention to the movie. It’s one they’ve seen a few times before- most of the places they stay have pretty much the same selection of channels, and the same selection of movies, as a result- but it’s always fun to watch, with Dean whispering his own dubs over particularly silly lines just to make his brother laugh.

Dad returns not long after he left, bringing a few takeout bags and the smell of dinner along with him. They all end up together on the one bed, with the food spread out between them and their movie commentary quieted in favour of filling their bellies. Dean works his way through his peas, as promised- he only sneaks a few of them to Sam, who’s much more keen on vegetables than he is- and there’s a couple slices of warm apple pie to share at the end, leaving him warm and sated and sleepy.

The movie ends and just bleeds into another one, maybe a sequel. By then, Dean’s managed to actually change out of his swim trunks and into softer pyjama pants, his hair has mostly dried itself out, and he’s snuggled up with Sam under the covers. Dad’s cleaned up the remains of their dinner and he’s settled on his own bed with his journal in his lap, deep in thought. The TV is quieter now, and Dean’s eyelids are heavy, and when he peeks down at his brother, it looks like Sam’s well on his way to falling asleep.

Despite his absolute best efforts, it isn’t long before Dean closes his eyes, too, giving a quiet little yawn into Sam’s hair and burrowing his way deeper under the blankets. It’s a combination of Sam’s breathing, the TV’s ambient noise, and the familiar scratch of pen on paper that lulls him to sleep, worn out in the best way after such a nice day with his family.

He still doesn’t know what his dad’s hunting this time around, but maybe for now, it doesn’t matter. They’re together, and they’re happy, and for once, it almost feels like they’re normal. He decides to appreciate it while it lasts.

* * *

John goes to sleep that night after switching off the TV and finishing his notes on the case as he’s assessed it so far. Besides the waitress at the diner, he’d managed to speak to a few other parents while the boys were playing at the splash pad, and everything he’d heard there was much the same; the rumours about the restaurant are very hush-hush, and no one is particularly eager to discuss them. It’s not hard proof, but it’s the lead he needs to follow the investigation further.

He wakes up early with the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind, mostly concerning how to go about looking into the restaurant itself. He’s got a dozen covers to pick from if he wants to play the FBI card, but with Sam and Dean around, it’ll be just as easy to play the parent for a firsthand look at how the place runs. It might be a good way to start, especially if he doesn’t want to run the risk of people clamming up around a fed, and if he decides to switch it up later, there’s always the option of spinning some story about being undercover.

Soon enough, John’s rolling out of bed to get himself ready for the day, leaving the boys undisturbed as he heads in for a quick shower to scrub the lingering sleep off his skin and make himself presentable. The hot water also works to wake him up properly, and by the time he’s toweling himself dry, he’s pretty much ready to go, mapping out everything he’s going to need to do.

Visiting the restaurant this afternoon seems like the best plan of attack, so getting the boys up and fed is his first priority. They don’t need to be in any particular hurry yet, though; it seems mostly like a lunch and dinner joint, so they’ve got a few hours to kill before dropping in. That’ll give him a chance to sweep the place firsthand, talk to other parents who’ve decided to ignore all the bad rap around it, and even do a preliminary EMF sweep if he gets the chance. If there’s something to be found, they can come back for the tail-end of dinner time with a suit and a badge to ask some more questions and talk to the employees.

It’s a start, anyways, and that’s all John needs to get himself going for the day.

When he returns to the bedroom, the boys are starting to wake up, mumbling to one another in sleep-slurred tones that have him smiling, soft and fond. He doesn’t go out of his way to make noise, but he does continue to get ready for the day, getting himself dressed and then starting to sort through his supplies to figure out what to carry on him when they head out. Most of his things are still in the car, under the trunk’s false bottom- it’s safer than bringing it all inside and running the risk of Sam finding it by accident- but he’s got some basic protective measures and his favourite sidepiece carefully tucked away in the bottom of his duffle. Both boys know better than to go digging through his things, though Dean’s got explicit instructions to do exactly that in the case of an emergency.

By the time he’s ready to go, Sam’s just managed to wiggle out of his brother’s arms and is slowly making his way towards the bathroom, eyes mostly still closed and barely responding when John ruffles his hair on his way by. John smiles fondly and glances towards his eldest, where Dean’s still working on opening his eyes.

“Got you guys all soft, sleeping in yesterday,” he notes with a chuckle, shaking his head and sitting down at the little table set they’ve got in the room. “No rush, but I did see a waffle place in town if you want to head there for breakfast.”

That’s got Dean perking up more quickly, and he stretches like a cat before climbing out of bed. John smiles to himself as he watches the kid march straight to the bathroom only to be met with the closed door as Sam goes about his business inside, and he’s left staring at it for a few confused seconds before plopping down right there to sit and wait it out.

John stifles an amused snort. His kids sure are something.

He goes back to his journal while he gives them a few minutes to get ready, skimming over his notes one last time to make sure he’s got all his facts straight. Five kids went missing the last time this restaurant was open, and though the bodies were never found, it was shut down due to health concerns. A suspect was arrested, but released and never tried due to a lack of evidence. The franchise has had two other restaurants open in the past, and both of them ended up closing with similarly dark stories and no identified culprit. He’d have suspected a haunting if not for the multiple locations involved, so he’s working a cursed object theory for the time being, at least until he can gather more evidence and figure out exactly what’s going on with Fazbear Entertainment.

He manages to get the boys out the door within the hour, both of them still a little sleepy but happy to be led along if it means they get their waffles as promised. They all pile into the car and hit the road, John watching the town starting to come to life around them as they go. It’s not terribly early, and this deep in July, the sun’s already working its way high into the sky. It’s a warm morning and a comfortable one, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he drives.

Case or no case, it’s not a bad place to be. The boys seem happy, it’s a new bit of scenery, and- hell; it’s summer. The sun is shining and it’s not hard to find something worth smiling about right now.

It doesn’t take long to track down the waffle place, and Sam and Dean are definitely awake by the time they get a good sniff of the toasted sugar scent wafting from the place. They’re little balls of energy by the time they all get inside, and the hostess gives him a knowing smile and playful wink before leading them to their table.

She looks a little bit like Mary from behind, and John glances down towards his boys, instead. He’s gotten real good at compartmentalizing over the years, and that means keeping the love of his life carefully tucked away for the nights when he doesn’t have anyone he needs to smile for. Those are few and far between, for the most part, and he thinks it’s probably for the best.

Sam and Dean are already poring over a menu together, so John sits back and watches the rest of the room, an idle sort of observation. There are other families scattered about, mostly parents with their children, and he thinks he should be envious of them. Many of them look whole, at least on the outside, with a mother and father, a couple kids to finish the bunch. They look happy, too- sticky-faced, some of them, others more exasperated or tired, but… happy.

They don’t know the world for what it is, not the way that John does. He hasn’t known that luxury since the day his wife was killed, and it’s- it’s hell, some days. It’s living in a world of constant agony, seeing death and grief every single day as a part of his job and knowing that most people will never have the faintest clue that the monsters he fights even exist. They live in a haze of blissful ignorance, never to be weighted down by the burden he bears in seeking out Mary’s killer.

John’s heart is heavy with the thought, but when he shifts his gaze to the opposite side of the table… it’s impossible not to smile, seeing the way Sam and Dean interact. Dean’s dictating the menu for his little brother while Sam gives him feedback on the options presented, the two of them closer than he’s ever seen a pair of brothers, and- and it makes the whole thing worth it, some days. John knows he’s far from the best dad there is, and he knows that his boys deserve better- God, do they deserve better- but they’re his. He’s got the two sweetest kids in the entire world, and despite the hell he lives every day, despite uprooting them weekly and dragging them across the country on faulty leads and unfounded rumours, despite everything they could’ve had if he’d just settled down and let this all go…

They love him. Somehow, the two of them look up to him like he’s the sun and moon, even now when they’re otherwise distracted. He catches them sneaking peeks in his direction and the open trust and affection there makes John ache, deep in his chest.

Mary would’ve been so good to them, and it’s all he can do to hope that he’s giving their boys a fraction of what the world owes them for all the suffering that they’ve endured. All he wants is to keep them safe and happy, whatever those things may cost.

For now, it seems, that cost is the price of a couple plates of waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. That much, at least, is easy to manage.

John’s mostly lost in thought by the time their food arrives, working his way through his omelette and keeping one eye on the boys to make sure they’re alright while his mind otherwise wanders. At this point, all he needs to do is kill a little time between now and lunch, and he’ll be able to start his investigation. He can probably even get away with showing up early, anyways; there’s nothing saying the boys need to eat right away, and there’s no harm in giving them more time to explore the place. They don’t usually have attractions like it in the one-horse towns they frequent, so the novelty of it should be enough to keep them entertained for a few hours, at least. Maybe they’ll even make some friends while they’re here, though John tries not to think about that part; all their friendships end with distance, and he’s never stopped feeling guilty for it. The only upside to it is that it’s driven the boys ever-closer together, and John gets some comfort in knowing how deeply they care for one another.

Watching them now, across the table, bumping elbows and entirely absorbed in their own little world, it sort of seems like they don’t need anything else. John thinks he’s okay with that.

He tunes in right in time to catch Sam giggling and reaching out to smear some whipped cream onto Dean’s nose. “Now you’re messy, too!”

Yeah. They’re fine just the way they are.

“You guys ready to hit the road?”

It takes a few minutes to herd the boys out of the diner after paid for their meals- there’s only so much he can do to control a couple of sugar-buzzed children- but he eventually manages to load them up in the car again, all cleaned up and curious about their plans. John hasn’t given them any specifics besides mentioning the restaurant yesterday, mostly because he hasn’t quite figured it out yet himself.

They end up exploring the town a little bit more, windows rolled down and music drifting free from the speakers. The town’s more awake now, and it’s an easy-going morning with the sun shining bright in the sky and all sorts of people wandering the streets. Sam and Dean get into a game of counting cars, calling out in excitement whenever they spot a rare colour. It’s peaceful, and it’s easy to forget about why they’re here to begin with. John figures it wouldn’t be hard to spend an entire day like this; to maybe park the car somewhere and take off on foot to see what the town has to offer.

Still, forget, he doesn’t. An hour’s passed by the time he finally turns to drive back towards the restaurant, and that’s when the nerves start building, too- the familiar tension and anxiety that always come with starting a new case. He’s gotten better at managing the feelings over the years, and they’re more a familiar companion now than they are a real hindrance, but they serve as a reminder that he’s here to do work, and incredibly grim work, at that.

The boys only catch on to their destination once it’s within eyeshot, but they don’t hide their excitement in the least, quick chatter soon filling up the back seat as they nudge each other and crowd up together in front of the passenger’s side window to get another look at the building.

“Daddy, can we?” Sam asks, and John doesn’t need to look to hear the wide, pleading eyes in his tone. “Please?”

John just smiles to himself as he flips the turn signal on. “Yeah, I think we can swing by.”

He gets a chorus of happy cheering in response, and he’s still smiling by the time he’s found a parking spot. He’s surprised to notice that it still doesn’t seem all that busy, and thinks once again that the rumours surrounding the establishment might be more potent than he’d originally assumed. Granted, as a parent, he can imagine that stories about missing children might drive people away from a place intended for them.

“Alright, boys, you know the rules,” he says when he’s stopped the car, turning in his seat to look at Sam and Dean. They’re both doing their best to sit still, but it’s easy to see the way they’re both brimming with energy, bouncing in place and eager to go inside. “Stick with me until I say you can go. If anything happens, come find me. Stick together, no matter what.”

They’re both nodding as he speaks, and Dean, especially, looks incredibly serious about it. If he’s being honest with himself, John can’t imagine a scenario in which they would willingly separate, but he likes to drive it home, just in case. “Great. Let’s check it out, then, yeah?”

Just like that, they’re off, leaving the car and heading towards the front doors. John finds himself eyeing the sign again as they approach: Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria highlighted above them in faded neon colours. The animal characters clustered around the text seem innocuous enough, and typical of a place like this, but chipped bits of paint and wear from the elements has them looking a little off in a way he isn’t able to place.

He brushes it off as best he can and pulls open the door once they reach it, letting the boys in ahead of him and giving himself a moment to adjust to the onslaught of scent and sound. Stale pizza is the strongest smell, and a cacophony of screaming children and cheerful music make it hard to make sense of anything else. Still, John shakes it off and follows after his kids, trying to take in more information about the place and get into an investigatory mindset.

His immediate first impression is a chaotic one. The front desk isn’t very far-removed from what seems to be the main dining area and a stage. Checkered floors, children’s art decorating every wall; it’s more than a little overwhelming, and he finds himself stuck staring as he tries to absorb every detail. It doesn’t seem to affect Sam and Dean quite as profoundly, and they hurry straight to the reception area, so John allows them to lead the way, working up a smile for the teenager running the front desk. Her nametag says Hi! I’m Ro, and she already looks worn-out. Working at a place like this, where John’s ears are already starting to ache, he can’t exactly blame her.

“Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria,” she greets them, smiling brightly as they approach. Dean’s crowded right up against the counter on his tip-toes with Sam trying to hop up beside him, and John joins them soon after. “Just the three of you?”

“Just us,” John agrees, glancing down at his boys. He can’t hide his fondness, seeing how excited they are. “Should we just find our own place?”

“Go for it.” She turns to gesture towards the dining area, where John spots a few other kids running around a handful of adults who look like they’d rather be anywhere else. “You can buy tokens for the arcade games at the machine by the wall, and a server will come by to take your order. Enjoy the show, and have fun!”

John barely finishes thanking her before Sam and Dean are trying to drag him away, and he decides not to fight it, laughing as they lead him into the dining area. He does make a note to look around on the way, taking in every detail that seems relevant; despite the bright, flashy colours that decorate most of the room, the restaurant is showing obvious signs of disrepair. Chipped paint, missing tiles on the floor, peeling wallpaper; even the animatronic animals whose presence onstage dominates the scene seem to be in less than perfect condition. It’s a little worrying, as a parent, but John reasons with himself that it’s an old building to begin with. Maybe they’re working on financing repairs. There’s no real way to tell for sure, so he brushes it aside, trying to ignore the smell and the grating songs being sung in favour of watching the kids.

Sam and Dean, for their part, look absolutely ecstatic. Unsurprisingly, it isn’t hard to find an empty table, and he’s guided into a chair that feels sticky as soon as he’s settled into it. The table’s surface doesn’t look a whole lot better, but he doesn’t say a word, all of his attention on his boys for now.

“Can we go play?” Dean asks him with big eyes, and John’s surprised the kid hasn’t vibrated right out of his skin with how excited he looks. “We’ll be good, and we’ll stay together, promise!” Sam’s nodding right along with him and as hard as John tries to maintain some kind of serious expression, he fails somewhere between the puppy-dog eyes and the poorly-hidden energy that’s begging to be released. “Please?”

John just breathes out a laugh, already reaching for his wallet and trying not to think about budgeting right now. The boys, at least, are here to have fun. He’s got to give them a little bit of wiggle room. “Here,” he says, handing Dean a ten. “You remember where the girl said you could buy tokens?”

Dean accepts the money almost reverently, and he’s already nodding, the both of them starting to inch towards the token machine. “Yeah! Thanks, Dad!”

“Thanks, Daddy!” Sam echoes, and then they’re off, linking hands somewhere along the way as Dean slows down for his little brother.

John watches them go with a tiny smile before turning to watch the room again. There are a couple dozen kids, a handful of adults, and a few employees scattered around, and he takes careful note of them all. It’s going to be trickier to ask questions here, but it’s also where he’s most likely to get the information he’s looking for. He needs to learn more about the rumours around this place, and he needs to know if they’re founded in any truth- and, more pressingly, if that truth is still alive and well to this day.

* * *

With his pockets stuffed full of tokens and his little brother close by his side, Dean feels like the luckiest kid in the whole entire world.

He’s never been in a restaurant like this before, one that’s more about running around and having fun than it is about sitting down and being quiet. It’s exciting, even with the weird smells, and Dean’s more than happy to look past those in order to focus on the novelty of it all.

Sam looks entirely star-struck; Dean thinks that if he weren’t holding his brother’s hand, Sam would’ve wandered into a wall by now for all the attention he’s giving his immediate surroundings. Dean takes the initiative to lead them both towards the arcade area, where most of the other kids seem to be gathering in a sea of flashing lights and coloured plastic.

“Dean!” Sam grabs his attention with a gentle tug, pointing towards a claw machine. It’ll cost them a few tokens, but as soon as Dean lays his eyes on the thing, he’s determined to win something for his little brother; something that’ll let him remember this day. “C’mon, there’s no one there!”

Dean nods eagerly and hurries alongside Sam towards the machine, making sure none of the other kids get there first. He squints at the instructions once they’re close enough, then reaches into his pocket to carefully count out the tokens it’ll cost them.

“Which one d’you want?” he asks once the game’s started up, already scoping out its offerings. “C’mere.”

He lifts a giggling Sam up high enough to see the prizes, a small mountain of plushies hidden in the glass case. Sam’s obviously taking it very seriously as he presses right up close to the barrier and takes his sweet time surveying the options while Dean watches, and when he finally comes to his decision, he makes it clear. “Doggy!”

He’s jammed one of his fingers against the glass to point, and when Dean peeks up to see which one he’s chosen, he spots what appears to be a fox dressed like a pirate. It’s not hard to understand the appeal. “I’m gonna get it!”

He sets his brother back down on his feet and then gets right into the game, intense in his focus as he wiggles the little joystick around. It doesn’t handle very well, and it’s clunky, and he misses completely the first couple of times. He’s sure he’s got it by the third attempt, as the claw closes around one of the fox’s feet, but it slips free as the thing tries to lift it, and Dean’s left making a frustrated sound, glaring at the machine and wondering if it’s worth putting another couple of tokens inside.

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.”

Dean jumps a little, startled, and spins around to face the newcomer. It’s another kid, he discovers; a boy, maybe about Dean’s age, with big brown eyes and an all-knowing look on his face. Dean’s on the defensive right away, just on principle of the other kid being a stranger, and he’s quick to put himself between the kid and his brother. “What’re you talking about?”

“The game.” The boy points at the claw machine and then shrugs a little bit. “Nobody ever wins. You’re better off trying to win tickets at the other ones and buying one of the plushies from the prize table.”

It’s not the first time Dean’s heard something like that, but he frowns anyways, looking back towards the game again. “Sammy wants the fox, though.”

“His name is Foxy.” The boy gives a serious nod, then, apparently understanding the appeal of the whole pirate thing. Anyone should, really. “He’s one of the mascots. See?”

He points, then, off to one end of the big dining room- there’s a set of purple curtains that section something off, and a sign that labels it Pirate Cove. “He lives in there, ‘cause he’s a pirate, but he only comes out for shows around dinner.”

It’s all interesting information- especially to Sam, it seems, who’s trying to subtly sneak his way under Dean’s arm in order to get closer to the action- but Dean’s still suspicious, squinting slightly. “What’s your name?”

“Matt.” The boy beams at them, offering his hand, and doesn’t even falter when Dean fails to reciprocate. He drops it again and gestures around the dining room. “I’m here a bunch, but I’ve never seen you guys before.”

Dean nods, slow and cautious as he sizes the kid up. He seems harmless enough, and Dean decides that maybe he’s just a little too on-guard here, knowing that Dad’s working a case. Kids are usually okay. “We’re just staying here for a bit,” he says a few seconds later, finally shifting so that Sam can be included without needing to shove past his arm. “I’m Dean, an’ this is my brother, Sammy.”

“Sam,” Sam huffs in correction, but he’s looking up at Matt curiously. “How much are you here?”

“Pretty much every weekend.” Matt shrugs, looking between the two of them before his eyes light up in a way that worries Dean. “Have you guys heard all the legends about this place?”

Dean’s about to open his mouth to say that no, they haven’t, and that no, they don’t want to, but then Sam’s tugging at the end of his shirt, demanding attention and pointing once Dean looks down at him. “Dean, can we?”

His focus is clearly on Pirate Cove, and it’s as good an excuse as any to get away before Matt can start spinning stories for them. Dean’s quick to nod, already taking Sam’s hand in his to lead his brother away, and he doesn’t so much as bother waving as Matt calls a quick “later!” after them. Sam waves, but he’s obviously distracted, and by the time they reach the curtains, he’s probably forgotten all about the other boy.

“Foxy lives here?” Sam asks, voice a little hushed. He reaches out slowly, fingertips barely able to brush the fabric before Dean pulls him back a bit, wary. It doesn’t faze Sam, and he continues to stare, clearly intrigued. “Really?”

“Guess so, yeah.” Dean shrugs, but Sam’s not looking at him, and doesn’t seem to really be listening to him, either- he’s got his head tilted a little to the side, eyes distant like he’s trying to listen to something real close. It’s worrying, and Dean opens his mouth to ask him what’s wrong before they’re interrupted.

“Hope you two are hungry.”

It’s Dad, and Dean’s admittedly grateful to see him coming- Sam snaps to attention right away, blinking the daze out of his eyes and smiling wide when he’s scooped right off his feet into their dad’s arms. Dean smiles, too, laughing when his hair is ruffled affectionately, and for the moment, he forgets all about Sam’s odd reaction to Pirate Cove and the rumours that Matt had come so close to telling them about. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.” Dad nods, matter-of-fact, and starts to lead the way back towards the tables, Sam securely in his arms. “The pizza here is huge. Not sure how tasty it is, but… well, hey, how hard can it be to make good pizza, right?”

Dean beams up at his dad and follows him to their table, eager to stuff his face before playing some more arcade games with his brother. He might not have been able to beat the claw machine, but there are plenty of flashy lights and cheerful beeps around them that demand attention, and he’s got a feeling that Sam will end up happy regardless of whether or not they win anything nice. His little brother’s always been good like that. Just one of the many things that he loves about his Sammy.

* * *

 As it turns out, it's very, very easy to make bad pizza.

John only manages to work his way through a slice or two before he has to sit back, leaving the boys to pick at the rest of what's on their table, and he instead turns his attention back to the restaurant around them while they chatter away. He's been mostly just watching people since they arrived, trying to get a feel for the place, and so far, all he's settled on is that there's something distinctly off about it. Everything seems normal enough on a shallow, surface level, but even just taking more time to pay attention to the run-down state of things makes his skin crawl. It doesn't seem like the sort of place where any child should be spending time, like some kind of abandoned, burned-out shell of a thing that's been painted over in bright colours, and it just makes him wonder even more.

The other parents scattered around the dining room seem to be in much the same position that he is- tired, overwhelmed, and vaguely distrustful. The employees have smiles on their faces, but John suspects that it's because they're paid to look that way, and the other kids... well, for the most part, they seem about as happy and oblivious as Sam and Dean are across the table from him. They're focused enough on the exciting arcade games and singing animals that the rest of it doesn't seem important to them.

The boys draw his attention again a moment later as Dean hops out of his seat, bringing Sam down with him before they're both turning to head off again. "We gotta play some more games!" Dean calls over his shoulder, and John smiles and waves them off before starting to stand. Better to get some more work done while he's got the chance.

After dumping the remains of their pizza- the crust barely seems edible, now that he's looking at it all alone on the plate- he digs the EMF meter out of his pocket, real careful. Pulls the antenna into place before switching it on, and then he's walking, waiting while the thing sorts itself out and recalibrates for the area they're in so it'll stop whining as if there's some serious spiritual activity nearby, except...

John stops in place, just so he can stare down at the thing. It's still whining, and every single indicator light is as bright as they get, and he's completely at a loss. Maybe the damn thing's broken, but then again...

He starts walking with it, just to see if it changes as he moves around the room. As expected, it keeps on going, crackling and beeping more insistently when he gets near the stage before turning to avoid suspicion, and there's a heavy, purple curtain near the back of the room that sets it off pretty bad, too. The whole place is crawling with electromagnetic frequencies, and John's as stumped as he is unsurprised.

Maybe the stories are true, after all. Between the EMF readings and the way that this place feels on a very basic, hindbrain kind of level, there's absolutely no doubt left in John's mind that something is very, very wrong with Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

From there, it's just a matter of planning how to tackle the case, and that leaves him wandering for another couple minutes as he thinks it over, switching off the EMF meter and shoving it back into his pocket. Now's as good a time as ever to start his investigation here, and that leads him straight towards one of the nearby employees- the girl who'd been managing the front desk earlier is wandering the restaurant floor now, still looking a little frazzled but smiling just the same.

John approaches her with a polite smile on his face, waving when she notices him. He's still a parent here, with his boys off spending their time with the other kids, so he decides to stick to that. "Hey. It's Ro, right?"

She looks a little surprised by that- must be rough, working in a place like this, where John figures most parents she speaks with are tired and easily upset- but then she's smiling again, giving him a quick nod. "Yeah, that's right," she agrees. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Kind of." John smiles once more, glancing off towards the stage for a moment as if this conversation isn't as important as it is. "Guess I was just wondering about something. Some rumours I heard about this place? Just... weird things happening, that kind of stuff." He turns towards her once more, smile turning intentionally sheepish. "I've always been a fan of ghost stories, so..."

Ro looks like she doesn't know whether to get defensive or not, but John's expression must set her at ease, because she nods slowly a moment later. "Me, too," she admits before glancing around. Nobody's close enough to hear their conversation, and she continues a moment later, voice lowered. "Well... some people say that this place is haunted. I think it might just be 'cause the animatronics freak them out. I can't really blame them. But it gets weirder, too." One more glance around the room. "I've heard from the night guard that they move around sometimes. All on their own. They just... walk around the restaurant. He's terrified of them. Always locks himself in the office during his shift, just in case they come to get him, I guess."

That's absolutely fascinating, and John clings to the information as he presses on. "How about you? Have you ever seen them do something like that?"

He tries not to be disappointed when Ro shakes her head. "I never stay here late. It's already kind of creepy in the daytime, so I can't imagine what it's like after the sun goes down. But... well, if you want to talk to Mark about it, he starts around midnight and gets off his shift at six. You're probably better off catching him first thing in the morning, so you don't interrupt him when he's working."

John nods quickly, already making plans as she speaks. "And you think he'd be willing to talk to me about it?"

"He loves talking about it." Ro laughs, shaking her head, and John gets the sense that she's heard the guard's stories more than once. "He'll tell anybody who listens about the ‘haunted animatronics’. I think he's hoping that somebody will give him a book deal or something."

Regardless of why he's willing to talk, John'll take it, and he's smiling more genuinely once Ro is finished. "I'll try to catch him tomorrow morning, then. Maybe bring him a coffee or something for his time."

"He'd like that, yeah." Ro smiles again, then she's glancing towards her watch and the front desk. "Sorry, but I need to get back on duty. If you have any more questions, come find me, and I'll be happy to help!"

With that, she heads off, and John waves before moving back towards the table he'd claimed earlier, feeling the gears turning in his head. He's got a solid plan of action now, and something to look forward to in the morning- progress that can be made. With any luck, the night guard will be able to tell him more about whatever's going on here, and maybe he'll even get himself some leads towards making it all stop.

For now, John turns his attention back to the restaurant, easily spotting his boys where they're crowded in front of one of the arcade games. He can't help smiling with the way that Dean's helping Sam work the controls, something warm in his chest. It's not often that a case lets him give something to his boys, and if they're having fun here, then there's no reason to cut their time short. He'll find some other employees to talk to, maybe chat up some parents, snoop around for anything suspicious... there's sure to be something around this place that can occupy his time until the boys are ready to leave, just to make sure they get those extra couple hours having fun.

Besides- if the ruckus and excited chatter from the area near the main stage if of any indication, the main show is about to start. Might as well enjoy it.

* * *

Dean ends up spending their last four tokens on a racing game that lets him and his brother climb into big, plastic chairs and pretend like they're driving real cars. Sam's legs are a bit too short to reach the pedals, and Dean can't steer very well when most of his attention is on helping his brother, but even though they don't end up placing well against the computer players, the both of them are smiling and giggling when it's over and it's time to head back towards Dad.

Before they get very far, though, Sam's tugging at Dean's hand, insistent, and Dean glances down to see him staring at the far wall, the heavy purple curtain that they'd taken a moment to visit earlier. "Foxy!"

Dean doesn't get it until he realizes that the curtain is no longer completely shut. It's starting to part in the middle, very slowly, and as Sam starts to drag him closer, Dean realizes that he can hear music, too, separate from the song that's playing on the main stage. Sam keeps leading the way, and as they finally make it there, the beginnings of the animatronic inside start to be revealed.

Just as the plusie from earlier and the sign out front have promised, Foxy is a pirate fox. He's just as big as the other animatronics, and, Dean can't help but note, just as ragged. The tears in his fur and the missing teeth are what draw his attention, leaving him feeling a little bit unsettled even as Sam brings them right as close as they can get. There's a barrier that keeps them out of touching distance- Dean's thankful for that much- but it's close enough to hear every click and whirr that the robotic parts make as Foxy moves along with the music, hook hand waving up and down and his mouth snapping open and shut, showing off teeth that look much sharper than they should.

Dean kind of wants to leave, all of a sudden- to grab his brother and hurry back to their dad as quickly as his legs will take him- but it quickly becomes apparent that Sam won't have any of it.

"Foxy," he mumbles once more, and he seems just short of climbing over the barrier to get closer. Dean hovers a couple inches back, but he's got his fingertips caught in Sam's shirt just in case. "He's talking!"

That should be worrying, Dean thinks, but then again- Foxy's mouth is moving. Sam's real good at playing pretend, so maybe he's just filling in the blanks. "What's he sayin', Sammy?"

Sam hums, low and soft, and he tilts his head to the side, just a fraction. Like he's really listening. His voice is all soft and thoughtful when he replies, and a little curious, too. "He wants t'go home."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that, so he lets Sam stare for a few more seconds before gently tugging on his shirt. "C'mon, Sammy, Dad's probably waiting for us. Let's go see him, okay?"

It takes several seconds too many to pry Sam away from the barrier, and even once Dean manages it, he doesn't miss the way that his brother keeps looking over his shoulder, looking kind of sad. "He wants to go home," Sam mumbles once more, and Dean tries hard to ignore the shivers that it sends all up and down his spine.

Dad's right where they left him, and he looks better, too, kind of smiling the way he does when he gets an important piece of information. Dean drags Sam into a chair before plopping down beside him, wishing he could ask about it. "Are we gonna leave soon?"

Dad looks surprised by the question, but nods slowly, glancing between the two of them before he speaks. "We can, sure," he agrees. "Did you want to get dinner somewhere else?"

Dean's not sure he's up for eating right now- not when his chest feels like it’s been all twisted into knots- but he nods anyways, eager for any excuse to leave this place right now. He just can't shake the feeling of something being wrong, and more than anything, he wants to get himself and his family out of here. He’s got no real explanation for the abruptness of the feeling, but he doesn’t question it. "Yeah. Can we get- Chinese?"

It's the first thing that comes to mind, but Dad nods, a smile growing on his face. "Only so much pizza you can take, huh?"

Dean nods because that's what'll get them out of here, and then Dad's standing, straightening out his jacket as Dean joins him with Sam in tow, trying to ignore the way that his brother is still staring towards Foxy. "How about we drive around until we find some Chinese takeout, and we'll go back to the room and watch another movie, huh?"

It sounds infinitely better than staying here, and thankfully, they're on their way out a minute later, waving goodbye to the girl at the front after paying for their lunch and then stepping out into the parking lot. Dean feels like he can breathe for the first time in hours, not having realized how overwhelmingly strong the overall scent of the restaurant had been until it's suddenly replaced by fresh air, and when he spots the car, he's already starting to feel a little better.

Sam's still mumbling to himself- not that it's anything new, strictly speaking- but it's the fact that Dean keeps hearing the same words, over and over again, that's a little worrying. "Foxy," Sam will mumble, and then "wanna go home," and Dean just holds his brother's hand a little bit tighter and hauls him into the back seat, trying not to wonder about it.

It doesn't take long to find a Chinese takeout place, and Dean's more than happy to follow Dad inside, Sam's hand still firmly clutched in his own, just for the sake of staying all together. He lets Sam explore the little front room with him while their order is prepared, relaxing further as Sam's attention settles on a couple little jade figurines and he seems to forget all about Foxy. Maybe it's just a little bit of playing pretend that had gone too far- Dean knows better than to ignore his gut feeling, thanks to Dad, but he doesn't want anything to do with the feeling he got back in that restaurant, and he's maybe a little bit too eager in shoving it to the very farthest corners of his mind. Sam’s always had an overactive imagination, and this is probably just another example of that, unsettling Dean with the context of the creepy animatronics. Nothing he needs to linger on right now.

They head out with a couple bags of food, and before long, the three of them are marching back into their rented room. Dad drops the food on the table and then it's just a matter of digging in. It's infinitely better than the pizza, and even works to ease the heavy feeling it had left in Dean’s stomach earlier.

It's only once they've polished off the last of the orange chicken that Dad speaks up, addressing them both but looking squarely at Dean. "I need to head back to that restaurant tomorrow, boys- first thing in the morning. You don't have to come, if you'd rather sleep in, but there's something I've gotta check out."

It's the tone of voice Dad uses that tips Dean off, and he feels his chest tighten. He'd nearly forgotten all about the fact that Dad's working a case here, and now that he's planning to go back to the restaurant... he's got a bad feeling about the whole thing, and he bites his lip as he tries to figure out how to respond. "We can come if we want, though?"

It's clearly not the answer that Dad's expecting, but he nods. "Yeah, I guess. I'm gonna head over there around six, though, and it's pretty time-sensitive, so if you don't want to wake up..."

"We will," Dean promises, even as Sam whines in protest. "I just wanna stay with you."

It's the truth, too. As much as he loves being with his family in a general sense, he hates the thought of his dad going back to that restaurant all alone. Logically, Dean knows that Dad can take care of himself just fine, and that he does all kinds of dangerous things for his work, but...

There's just something he doesn't like about that place. He doesn't want his family anywhere near it, but if they have to go back, then he's gonna make sure they do it together.

"Alright," Dad says, and then he's reaching out to ruffle Dean's hair, quick and affectionate. "Just make sure you're ready to go right at six, okay? We can't be late."

That drives Dean to start getting ready for bed as soon as everything from dinner has been cleaned up, and within a few minutes, he's got himself and his brother both cleaned up and in their pyjamas, even snuggled up under the covers with the TV on across from them. Dad seems to think that's kind of funny, judging by the smile on his face, but Dean's okay with that.

"I'll wake you up at six," he reminds them once more, and he turns off the lights, leaving the TV on for now with the volume real low. "Night, boys."

Sam sniffles against Dean's chest, and Dean tries not to shiver when he hears his brother whisper once more. "Gonna see Foxy?"

Dean takes a deep breath and hugs Sam a little tighter, closing his eyes as he tucks his brother safely into his arms. "Yeah," he replies quietly, already feeling the first tendrils of sleep creeping into his mind. "Gonna see Foxy, Sammy."

He doesn't have a clue as to what they're going to find, if Dad's really investigating the place, but all he can hope is that it's over with quickly. The last thing Dean wants is to spend any more time in that restaurant than is strictly necessary.

* * *

John wakes up right at five-thirty as the birds start to sing, ready to continue his investigation and hopefully finish it up as quickly as possible. He does his best to stay quiet while he gets his things ready- part of him hopes that Sam and Dean will just stay sleeping, and that he'll be able to sneak out and come back before they even know he’s left- but Dean's stirring by the time John's tucked his journal into his pocket, and any hope of leaving the boys out of this part of the job is quickly dashed into nothing.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, a tiny smile on his face as he watches Dean rub at his eyes and yawn. "We're moving in a few minutes. Take your time."

He goes back to double-checking his bag- he's got the EMF meter, a fake badge, and his gun, and that's really the gist of what matters on a job like this- as Dean starts to drag himself out of bed. Sam seems like he's still out cold, but John doesn't have a problem with letting the kid doze in the back seat once they get going. Probably for the better, in fact, especially if Dean stays with him.

John's ready to go within a couple minutes, and he helps Dean get dressed for the day before just scooping Sam right out of bed, bundled up in one of the motel's blankets and all. He huffs a little and curls up in a tighter ball, but otherwise doesn't move, and John decides that's just fine. He leads Dean out into the cool morning with Sam in his arms and his bag over his shoulder, and once the room is all locked up, they're piling into the car, Sam being deposited into his big brother's lap to sleep for the drive.

Dean's just about asleep, as well, by the time they arrive after a quick stop for coffee, and John decides that he's completely fine with that. The parking lot is just about empty, so he's able to pull right up to the front doors to stop the car, at which point he turns around and leans back over the seats to look at the boys. "I'll be right back," he promises softly, and Dean barely blinks at him, obviously still exhausted. "I'll lock the car, and I'll be right inside if you need me."

Dean nods, and John makes sure the blanket is tucked around them properly before grabbing the cup of coffee he’s got with him and opening his door, making sure to lock the car up tight as he turns to head into the building. The door is open, surprisingly- he can't help but wonder if they even lock it at night to begin with; how much can there really be to steal in an old place like this? Maybe it's why they've got a night guard to begin with- and he lets himself in, glancing down at his watch. Five after six. Shouldn't be hard to find the guard, right?

Before he can get much further inside, he hears a voice through the relative darkness of the restaurant- the lights are off, and only the first bits the sunrise are illuminating the room- and pauses, curious.

"Hey! What do you want?"

It's a kid. A teenager, anyways, by the sound of him. Hardly someone he needs to worry about. John shrugs and keeps walking, following the voice towards the office in the back of the restaurant. Now that it's empty and mostly quiet, the place is even creepier, still smelling of old pizza and sweat more than anything else, and still looking just as decrepit as before. The three animatronics who’d been on the stage the night before stand there now, still and silent in a way that has John feeling unsettled, reluctant to turn his back. The hallway that leads him to the office is no better, with children's drawings tacked up on corkboard in a way that's probably supposed to liven it up. Mostly, it just creeps him out, scribbled eyes staring at his from all directions. Watching.

"Stop!" It's the kid again, and John rolls his eyes as the office door suddenly closes, a few feet down the hall. He doesn't stop walking. "I'm warning you, I'm armed!"

John finds that very hard to believe. "You're the night guard, right? Mark? One of your coworkers told me you might be able to help me out."

A few seconds of silence, and the door stays closed. "Help you out with what?"

"An investigation." This is the part where authority usually does the trick, so John pulls out his badge and holds it up, first towards a wall-mounted camera, and then towards the office window, though it's mostly dark inside. "FBI. How about you open up for me?"

It's a short moment before the door opens, then, and the first thing John sees is a flashlight, trying real hard to blind him as it’s shoved right into his face before the guard actually pokes his head out, still looking suspicious. It takes John a moment to process the pink hair and glasses, once he’s done blinking spots out of his vision, but he shakes it off. Kids these days. "What kind of investigation?"

John tucks his badge away and shrugs, free hand settling in his pocket. "I was hoping you could help me out with that part. I'm looking into some rumours about this place, and I was told that you were the guy to talk to." He holds out the coffee next, a peace offering. “Is that true?”

Mark seems to be surprised by that, and then he's straightening up a little bit, smoothing out his shirt. Reaches out slow and careful for the coffee before pulling it in close, fingers curling tight around the cup. "Maybe," he says slowly. Doesn’t seem to be quite as guarded now, and John’s thankful. "What kinda rumours?"

John gestures around himself, indicating the whole restaurant. "Urban legends, I guess. About this place... the animatronics. I heard they might be haunted."

That does the trick, and whatever hint of bravado that Mark had built up seems to wither all at once. "They are," he insists right away, peeking down the hallway as if they'll hear him. "Listen, it's- I know it sounds crazy. Everybody thinks I'm crazy, and I’m seeing things, and that I just fell asleep on the job and had a crazy nightmare, but I swear, there's something wrong with them, okay? They walk around when I'm here, and nobody ever believes me, just 'cause they go back where they're supposed to be before six every morning. Like clockwork."

It's a satisfying answer, but also a concerning one. John nods slowly, then glances past Mark, into the office. He notes the camera displays and feels a bit of hope. "You ever catch them moving on camera? Could I see the tapes?"

That thought is quickly dashed when Mark shakes his head. "No, they don't... I mean, I never see 'em move, exactly. It's just- they're not supposed to move at all during the night, but they go all over the place. I'll check the camera for the bathroom, and none of 'em are supposed to be in there, but sometimes, they are, and it's just..." He shudders. "And we don't keep the tapes, anyway. Some bullsh- uh, something about budget cuts. I don't know, man."

Great. John knows he shouldn't even be surprised, with the state of this restaurant, that they can't afford a proper security detail. It's a miracle they're even still operating at this point. "Right. How are you sure they're moving then? I mean... night shifts, creepy place like this... you sure you're not just imagining it?"

Must've been the wrong thing to say. Mark scowls at him, turning back into the room and snatching  a backpack off the ground. "Yeah, I've never heard that one before," he mutters, and nearly shoves past John on the way by. "I bet you think those murders were a ruse, too. What's the FBI doing looking into ghost stories, anyway?"

John doesn't know what else to say, and Mark's already out of reach. He's thinking again, though, some of the words sticking with him- the murders, namely. He hasn't had much of a chance to dig deep into those as of yet, but it gives him something to do for the day. Despite his voiced skepticism, John knows better than to dismiss Mark's account of the animatronics acting out, and he carefully files away the information for later as he starts towards the restaurant's exit again. Another employee passes him on the way in, presumably the guard taking the next shift, and John nods in greeting before pushing the door open, eyes immediately finding the car, right where he'd parked it, boys still safely tucked inside-

And a strange man standing far too close for comfort, staring into the back window.

John doesn't stop to think. He doesn't need to, really, not when there's a stranger crowded up against the side of his car where his defenseless children are sleeping. "Hey!" he barks, and it's the marine coming through, too, sharp and angry. "What the hell are you doing?"

The man doesn't flinch. Instead he turns, real slow, and just stares at John for a long few seconds. Blinks once. John takes another couple steps forward, quick and threatening, takes a moment to notice the scars on the man's face, and then the man is turning away, leaving. He's quick, too, moving straight to another car across the lot and peeling out before John's able to react beyond memorizing the plate number. Not that he's sure what he would've done, if he'd had the chance. His gun sits heavy in the back of his jeans, and he considers pursuit for a short moment before shoving it aside. Sam and Dean are more important right now.

The boys are still sleeping when he gets in the car, and he's thankful for it. Better they don't know what just happened, even though it makes John's skin crawl to even think about how it could've gone if he'd spent a little bit longer inside. Monsters are one thing to deal with, he thinks, but people... people are a whole different animal, and a worse one in plenty of ways.

"Dad," Dean mumbles, jarring him out of his thoughts, and John's quick to collect himself, trying to smile as he looks back. "M'hungry."

"Then let's go get somethin' to eat, huh?"

He's not up for sitting down at a restaurant right now, so he grabs a few breakfast sandwiches from the first drive-thru he sees and steers them back towards the motel. The boys need to sleep for a little bit longer, and John needs time to sort himself out- to figure out what his next move is, and to find something for Sam and Dean to do for the day while he continues his work on the case.

Sam and Dean crawl right back into bed when they get to the room, the both of them completely exhausted and barely awake to begin with, and John sits down with his journal and his sandwich, pulling out the newspaper clippings he's collects about Fazbear Entertainment and all the horror surrounding it. There doesn't seem to be one clear story that explains what's happened, only bits and pieces of information scattered across several years and a couple different restaurant locations that give the sense that a much greater picture is being hidden within.

It's not much to go off, but slowly, as the sun starts to rise and he works his way through his breakfast, John starts to put the pieces together, trying to weave a proper story out of what little he’s been given.

The murders seem to be at the center of it all- one big stain on the history and reputation of Fazbear Entertainment. Nobody seems to be able to explain quite what happened to the children, or even whether or not they were murdered. No bodies were ever found, and no culprit was ever charged, with the only suspect being released on the grounds that not enough evidence could pin him to the crime. That leaves a bad taste in John's mouth, and he sets that particular bit of information aside to delve into later- a William Afton, according to the article. More research to be done when he gets the chance, since there’s so little about the guy actually included in the piece.

It's the missing bodies that most occupy John's interest, especially given the high EMF readings he'd gotten at the restaurant yesterday. As much as the thought turns his stomach, he can't help but wonder if maybe that's where the bodies are, shoved under some floorboards or stuffed in the back room. It seems like the logical place to look, which makes him all the more curious as to how the police could've missed it during their initial investigation, but he chooses not to wonder about that. It's a new lead, if a grim one, and he intends to look into it as soon as possible, along with the supposedly-haunted animatronics.

Right now, though, it's still early. It makes more sense to him to visit the restaurant late and, if possible, camp out until midnight, or at least after-hours when the animatronics are supposed to be active, and when there are fewer employees and visitors to get in the way of his investigation. Besides that, he's not going to drag the boys out again so soon after their early wake-up call. For the moment, the best he can do is let them both get some more sleep and try to rest up, himself. There's work yet to be done, but until closing time at Freddy Fazbear's, he'll just have to find some other way to spend the day with his boys.

A brochure for local attractions in the desk drawer is where he ends up looking for suggestions, and the children's section manages to leave a smile on his face, despite everything else going on.

Yeah. This'll do just fine.

* * *

Dean's still sleepy when they're loaded into the back of the car once more, but he's got a full belly and a promise of a fun day ahead of them- one that doesn’t include visiting Freddy’s, by the sound of things- that keeps him mostly alert. "What kinda garden?"

"Supposed to be some kinda kid's place." Dad shrugs in the front seat, and Dean catches his eye in the rearview mirror. He looks kind of tired, too, but mostly just happy. "I think it's gonna be fun. We can check it out and see what it's about, and if it's no good, we'll find something else to do, huh?"

Dean nods, and Sam's already bouncing with excitement. He's pretty much fascinated by anything related to nature, and he still does his very best every now and then to convince Dad that they should try growing a garden in the trunk. "'Cause it's healthy," he'll try to insist, no matter how many times Dad tells him that it won't work out. Dean hasn't decided, yet, how he feels about the whole botanic garden thing, but he's curious, and that's enough to keep him interested for the time being.

It's a bit of a drive to reach the place, just off the highway and a ways from their motel, but Sam's already plastered himself against the window as they get close, eyes wide. Dean sneaks up behind him to peek at the signs directing them to the Paul Smith Children's Village. They don't seem to be the only family headed there, either, judging by the other cars making the turn into the parking area outside the front gates. Though its name seems a little silly, Dean's willing to give it a chance, especially since it means getting some time away from that restaurant.

They find their parking and then Dad's getting out of the car, letting them out of the back right after. "Let's try to stay together," he says firmly, just like he always does, and Dean nods, holding tight onto his brother's hand to make sure that Sam doesn't wander off. Judging by the wide-eyed way he's looking at the entrance to the gardens, it wouldn't take much to lure him away.

Dad pays their admission fee and then they're heading inside, and- well, Dean isn't too proud to admit that he's entranced right away. It's like a mashup of several different decades, old and new technology working together to keep the place up and running. It smells fresh; something that's not sure if it wants to be earthy or floral, but the different pieces mingle together just right. As expected, there are plenty of other kids around with their parents, but they're of no real concern to Dean with so much else to focus on.

They all stick together for now, and Dad leads them deeper into the gardens, underneath a rainbow arch and down a stone path. There's a pond surrounded by plant life, and several different branching paths, each with their own colourful little signs directing people to different parts of the garden- historical pieces, renewable energy, a classroom. It's as overwhelming as it is fascinating, and Dean's left with a million choices laid before him and no idea of where to begin.

Sam makes the decision for them, tugging insistently on Dean's hand and leading them towards the international vegetable garden. "Wanna see!"

Dad's laughing, but he follows right along behind them as Sam marches ahead, and it's all Dean can do to try to take in the sights and smells as they go. He's never been to a place like this before, and he wants to remember every detail of it- even the faint smell of compost, and the sound of a baby crying some distance away. It's the sort of memory he wants to hold onto forever, even if it's a relatively mundane one.

"They've got a windmill and everything," Dad says, and he sounds impressed and thoughtful. "Huh. Didn't realize it would be this nice."

Dean doesn't even bother to respond to that, because they've reached the vegetables and Sam's just short of climbing right into the planters to get a closer look. Not that Dean can blame him- he doesn't even have names for some of the things he sees among the tomatoes, the peppers, the peas. They're in bloom and make it a colourful sight to see, and he's transfixed, very nearly leaning forward to eat something right off the branch. One sign declares that the in-house café offers dishes made using the fresh ingredients here, and it makes Dean hopeful for getting to do just that.

They don't get to see places like this very often, if at all- most of the small towns they've spent their time in over the years don't have much to offer besides basic necessities, and if they're really lucky, an oversized ball of twine to draw in the tourists. The garden is something entirely different, and Dean has no trouble at all imagining that he could spend hours here, just exploring every nook and cranny with his brother.

Dad eventually manages to drag them away from the vegetables, but only once he promises them that there's something even more interesting going on. As it turns out, "something even more interesting" is storytime in the classroom, and though Dean's a little concerned to see mostly kids Sam's age filling the room, by the time he gets settled with his little brother in his lap on the floor and the lady at the front starts reading about fungi and how they grow... well, he can't help but be a little bit curious. He wraps his arms tight around Sam's middle and rests his chin on his brother's head and gets to listening, always happy to learn something new- even if it seems a little silly. It’s all a welcome distraction from the lingering discomfort after visiting the restaurant last night, and one that he’s more than happy to embrace.

Yeah. The gardens are pretty okay.

* * *

The little field trip goes over better than John could've hoped, and by the time he decides they'd better grab some lunch to make up for all three of their growling stomachs, it's a fight to convince Sam and Dean to leave. Despite his insistence that there's nowhere to grow them, he's suckered into buying a little packet of sunflower seeds for his youngest before they head out, too. The smile on Sam's face as he walks out with the little paper bag in hand makes the purchase more than worth the money.

It's just past noon, so John takes them out to another fast food place, deciding they might as well enjoy the rest of their day before it's time to get back to business. He decides to make a stop at the library before they head out again, and photocopies some more newspaper clippings to examine. They end up at a local park, and John settles himself on the bench with his journal in his lap, half an eye on the area around them in case anybody gets too close for comfort.

There isn't much new information to be found in what he's gathered. William Afton is mentioned again, but briefly, and John gets the distinct feeling that it isn't an accident. He can't exactly blame the reporter- based on everything he's learned so far, the whole mystery around Freddy Fazbear's is something of a taboo, and it seems like the investigation into it had been kept very tightly under wraps. He can’t exactly blame them, since it seems to have turned up no answers as to what happened to the kids involved. No matter; it just means he'll have to do a little more digging on his own to get to the bottom of things and sort the case out for good... assuming there's a case to be sorted out at all. Mark's testimony is still his only real lead on the haunting besides general rumours, and John's trying not to cling too hard to that.

Once he's done combing through all the little scraps of paper he's gathered, though, John goes right back to watching the boys, deciding that he deserves a bit of a breather. Especially after the scare in the parking lot this morning, he just needs to be reassured that they're safe, and there's something inherently relaxing about watching the two of them play together like normal kids. Dean's pushing his little brother on the swingset, and Sam's laughing, and John can't help the way it brings a smile to his face.

Maybe the reason he's riding this case so hard on such little foundation is because it hits too close to home. He's always been protective of his boys, and there's something about child victims in this line of work that always gets to him. This, especially, with no bodies to find and no suspect charged, has John feeling unsettled, wanting nothing more than to bring the responsible party to justice. If there's something he can do to make sure that nothing like it ever happens in the future, then he'll do his damnedest to make that a reality.

Right now, though, he just tries to settle himself. Sketches out his plan in his head a couple more times and makes some notes in his journal, ensuring that everything is neat and up-to-date. Some kind of haunting is his best guess right now, and though the multiple locations are still a big question mark that need to be sorted out, he figures that’ll fall into place when the time comes. For the moment, he tries to focus on sorting out what he’ll need to bring tonight. The restaurant closes around nine, and the animatronics are supposed to start moving at midnight, so they might have to spend a couple hours, there, too...

Maybe the boys should stay at the motel, but John isn't keen on leaving them alone. Besides- all he plans to do tonight is ask some more questions and try to stake the place out; see what he can see. Maybe get a look into the back rooms. He wants to know every inch of the place, and he wants to see what visitors aren't supposed to. With its messy history, Freddy Fazbear's is bound to be hiding some skeletons.

The boys tire themselves out on the playground within a couple hours, and John gathers them up to grab dinner before heading back to the motel to regroup. They eat their takeout chicken and fries while John gets his bag ready once more, and he gets the TV going to kill some time while the sun goes down.

"I need to head back to that restaurant tonight," he says casually during a commercial, and doesn't miss the way that Dean stiffens. "I've just got a little work to do there. You guys can stay in the car if you want, or you can come inside and play the games they've got while I get my stuff done. What do you say?"

Dean looks like he's got a whole lot to say about that, actually, but Sam speaks up first, obviously excited. "I wanna see Foxy!"

John raises his eyebrows, amused, but doesn't hide his smile. "I bet he'll be there, too, kid. We'll leave in an hour, okay?"

He's left wondering about the uneasy look on Dean's face, and he almost wants to ask, but... he's a tough kid. John knows better than to question that, and if something is wrong, then he trusts that Dean will tell him. Maybe the place just gives him the creeps, the way that Sam's so scared of clowns. Whatever the reason, John figures he'll keep an eye on the kid as long as he can, just to make sure he's okay when they get there. He knows there's no way that Dean will leave his brother, though, so if Sam's going, intent on seeing whatever it is he wants to see, then there's no doubt that Dean will be right by his side the entire time.

* * *

Dean nearly manages to forget about the plan altogether until suddenly it's time to go, and Dad's loading them into the car. It's dark out, and that doesn't help ease his nerves in the least when he thinks about going back to the restaurant. He can't explain why it's making him so anxious, but the place just seems wrong on a fundamental level, and even the soothing purr of the engine doesn't calm him down.

Sam's hand in his, small and soft, works a little better.

"Can we say hi to Foxy?" Sam asks him quietly as they get closer, and Dean can't make himself do anything but nod. Sam must've been playing pretend before, saying the thing was talking to him. That's what little kids do, right? It's just like when they play with the toy soldiers, or when they used to have pretend tea parties, or when they play Batman and Robin...

It's just pretend. That's what he keeps telling himself.

Dad's all business when they arrive at the restaurant, and Dean tries not to be unsettled by how empty it all looks. The lights are out, leaving the building looking abandoned, and the empty parking lot only adds to the image. They're already being briefed as they climb out of the car, and Dad's using his serious voice, the one he saves for when he's working and he needs the two of them to cooperate.

"I'm going to look around a little bit," he explains, kneeling down in front of them both once they're out of the car. "And I'm on the job, okay? So that means I might be telling people some stuff that doesn't sound true, but it's just part of my job. Got it?"

Sam's already nodding, 'cause he's heard this speech before, but Dean hesitates as his brain works. If there's a case here, then maybe it isn't just pretend, after all. "What kinda job is it?"

Dad looks at him, then Sam, and it's enough for Dean to understand. He won't say anything while Sam's around, the both of them trying real hard to keep him away from the work that Dad does. He's too little to be involved in that kind of stuff. "We can talk about it later, kiddo. For now, you guys just stick together and play some of the arcade games, okay?" He hands Dean a ten and smiles. "It'll only be a little while. Half an hour, tops."

With that, they're going on inside, and Dean tries hard not to focus on the way his stomach is tying itself in knots. Sam's enthusiasm gives him a distraction, at least, and he's able to follow behind Dad and into the building, headed straight for the dining room and game area.

"Hey- sorry, we're closed," Dean hears someone say, and he knows it's his job now to lead Sam away as Dad takes out his pretend badge and starts talking to the people inside. This shouldn't be so hard, right? Just thirty minutes. That's all.

He can do this for Dad. How much can happen in thirty minutes, anyways?

* * *

As soon as the boys are occupied, John's in full fed mode, glad he took the moment to pull on a nicer jacket before coming inside. He plays the undercover card, just as a bonus, and the employee who'd greeted him at the door- another teenager; seems to be the demographic of most of the workers here- was quick to nod along to whatever bullshit he spewed about an investigation. He even took the chance to drop the words "health inspection," and the kid might as well have rolled out the red carpet just for him.

"I'll need to see the whole place," John explains with practiced authority. "Back rooms, offices, all of it. It's vital for the investigation, and I've only been able to see the dining room during the day. Well- that and the can."

The kid laughs at that, seems to be set at ease somewhat, and John smiles as he starts leading the way. "Uh- right, yeah. Well, there's the main security office in the back, the kitchen, the storage room... that's pretty much it, actually, but I can definitely show you around."

John glances towards the boys as they pass, and they seem well enough entertained. Dean's keeping a hawk's eye on his brother, and John allows himself a small bit of pride at the sight before focusing once more on the impromptu tour. "So, how long have you been working here?"

"Just a couple months." The kid- his name's Nathan, John thinks, according to the nametag- glances back towards him and gives a small shrug. "It's just a summer gig, but it's a few extra bucks, y'know? Even if it kinda creeps me out."

"Does it?" That's promising. "What's creepy about it?"

That earns him a look, like it should be obvious. "I mean... c'mon, you have to have noticed. What isn't creepy about it, man?"

Fair point. John shakes his head before looking around once more, wondering absently how much it could possibly cost to buy a fresh coat of paint. "The building isn't very old, though, is it? Any idea what's got it so run down?"

If Nathan is worried about talking behind his boss's back, he hides it well. "I think they just can't afford to maintain it. Between you and me, they barely scrape by giving us minimum wage, and- well, I don't know if you've noticed, but they don't have a whole lot of employees."

It's all interesting information, and it works to confirm John's suspicions about the impact that the stories about the child murders have had on the restaurant's business. "I guess not, no."

They reach the kitchen first, stamped "Employees Only," and Nathan makes a face before pushing the door open. "You can poke around in there if you want to, I guess... fair warning, though, it's pretty rank."

It's not hard to see what the kid means when John steps inside, and he clears his throat to avoid gagging. The pizza scent was bad enough out in the main theatre area, but it's completely overwhelming here. It's dark, too, and he flicks on the lights to see- well, if he were really a health inspector, he's sure he wouldn't be impressed. "They make food in here?"

"I think calling it food is a little generous."

It's not hard to decide that there's nothing of use here, and John quickly steps back out, waving Nathan on. "I just want to peek in on the storage room real quick, then maybe look at the office. I paid your night guard a visit this morning. Does anyone else work there?"

Nathan actually laughs. "You met Mark, huh? He's a character. But, uh, not really. I cover the office until he starts his shift, and then someone else picks it up when he's done, but we don't exactly get a whole lot of action in here. Not sure why they even bother."

John can't help but wonder the same thing. A place that doesn't even bother to lock the front door and can't afford to clean the place up pays someone to guard it overnight? It's just strange, and he's reminded once more of Mark's stories about the animatronics walking around. Wonders if maybe it's related, somehow.

The hallway they take towards the storage room is noticeably less maintained than the rest of the restaurant. There aren't any drawings tacked to the walls here, and strange skid marks stain the tiles on the floor. John files those away for closer inspection later, but his attention is fully on the door they stop in front of- simply labelled "Storage"- as Nathan fumbles with his keys. "It's mostly just extra parts for the animatronics," he explains. "Not that anybody actually repairs them... I don't know why we keep all this stuff. I just think it's creepy."

John understands why as soon as the door's opened and he sees what's inside. He recognizes a couple of the franchise's mascots in bits and pieces around the room; a couple animatronic heads sitting on shelves, staring down at him. The dominating presence in the room, though, is a massive metal frame, shaped just like any one of the animal mascots, were they to be stripped of any fur or possible appeal.

"It's an endoskeleton." Nathan must notice him staring, and judging by the tone of his voice, John isn't the only one to find it disturbing. "It's, uh... it's the robot part that goes inside the fur suits. Makes 'em move."

John can't help the way that his gaze lingers on the naked eyeballs protruding from the endoskeleton, but he nods slowly, all the same. "Not quite as cute and cuddly without skin."

Nathan laughs nervously, and John finally refocuses. "Yeah, not really. Um- anyways, there's not a lot in here. Mostly just old stuff, I guess."

John takes that as an opportunity to step further inside, leaving as much space as he can between himself and the hunk of metal staring at him as he starts to poke around. "It's usually locked?"

"Yeah. Like I said, we don't really use it much, so..."

That makes it a viable spot to hide a body, and that's enough to have John on edge as he shuffles through whatever sits on the dusty shelves. Some old plaques, nuts and bolts that must go with the animatronics, boxes of junk... there isn’t much of interest, though he finds himself lingering on some old photos. Most of them are too damaged to make out, but it’s clear that they’ve been taken in and around the restaurant. Some feature the animatronics, looking a whole lot better than they do now.

After his initial suspicion, it doesn’t take long for John to decide that the bodies aren’t in here. It’s a small room that’s cramped as it is, and even after feeling along the walls for any suggestion of hidden areas, he comes away without any leads to show for it. He’s a little disappointed, but shrugs it off, dusting off his hands as he straightens up once more. “I think I’m done in here,” he says out loud, turning back towards Nathan. “How about you show me the office now?”

Nathan just nods, already leading the way out. He locks the door once they’ve left the room, and then they’re headed back down the hallway towards more familiar territory. John scuffs his shoe against the skid marks as they walk and notices, confusingly, that they aren’t just surface stains- they’re gouges in the actual tile of the floor. He’s left wondering what could’ve left that kind of mark behind, and can’t help but remember the stories about the animatronics wandering the halls at night.

“Here.” His thoughts are interrupted as they reach the office door, and it’s already open. Nathan gestures for him to step inside. “Sorry for the mess. We don’t exactly get a lot of visitors in here.”

The office is the same as it was this morning, except that nobody is inside. John steps inside to start looking around, and there isn't a whole lot to see- some computer monitors, a phone, a mess of papers scattered across the desk. Most interesting are the newspaper clippings tacked up on the walls; the very same ones that John's been gathering in his journal about the murders and William Afton. Nathan must catch him staring, because he clears his throat a bit before speaking, tentative. "We've all heard the stories, but... I don't know. I guess I don't want to believe them, y'know?"

John just nods, not looking away from the grainy photo of the restaurant. He's all-too familiar with that particular feeling, and he needs to take a moment to remember how to breathe.

Everything would be so much easier if monsters weren't real.

“Yeah.” John clears his throat, too, trying to work past the tightness in his chest. “It okay if I poke around a bit?”

Nathan shrugs, and John gets to work, inspecting the newspaper clippings more carefully before moving on to the desk. There’s no obvious coherence to what he finds there- takeout menus, blank stationery, scribbled notes in an illegible scrawl. He’s able to pick out words like “alive” and “haunted” that have him thinking Mark is probably the one who’d left them here, and he carefully sets them aside before picking up another newspaper article, previously hidden under the notes.

There’s another picture of the restaurant, taken back in its opening days. The old building, he thinks, before all the murders happened- it looks brand-new, and there are plenty of children and parents milling about. Beside the photo of the restaurant are a couple more photos; employees, animatronics, and some of the restaurant’s other attractions. One stops John short, and he can’t help but stare, feeling something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. “Who’s this?”

Not like he really needs to ask. The caption makes it plenty clear.

_Chief animatronic technician, William Afton, with one of his creations._

It takes Nathan a moment to reach him, but as soon as he's close enough to look, he's responding. "Oh, that's Mr. Afton. William. He's one of the higher-ups, I guess... mechanical technician or something. He's supposed to be in charge of taking care of the animatronics, but he doesn't come by very often, so..."

The man in the photo is, without a doubt, the same one John had seen in the parking lot that morning. He's younger in the photo, and the scars are noticeably absent, but there's no mistaking the cold eyes.

William Afton.

"I think it's 'cause he got in some trouble a couple years back." Nathan's voice is quieter, now, a little uncomfortable. "Um... I guess you saw the newspaper clippings. People thought he killed those kids or whatever, and-"

"I have to go." John doesn't let him finish because suddenly all he can think about are his boys, alone and unattended in this place, and the fact that William Afton might still be nearby. "I'll come back to finish up later."

If Nathan has anything else to say, John doesn't hear it, already leaving the office and moving down the hallway as quickly as his legs will carry him, heart beating too fast and trying his damnedest not to be overwhelmed by fear.

Not enough evidence. That's the only reason why Afton wasn't charged with killing those children, and just this morning, looking at Sam and Dean like that... there's no doubt left in John's mind as to who's responsible for this whole mess, but that isn't the most important thing he has to worry about right now. Not when Sam and Dean are on the line.

He isn't going to let anybody hurt his boys.

* * *

Things are too quiet after hours. All Dean can hear are his and his brother's footsteps as they move through the tables, headed towards the arcade games from earlier. Some of them aren't even turned on, and every unknown sound has Dean flinching, ready for something to jump out at them. He can't help but wish he had something to use to defend himself.

Sam seems entirely unbothered by the atmosphere, though, and he happily leads Dean along towards some of the games they didn’t get to try earlier. He seems upset that the claw machine is turned off, but quickly becomes distracted by a pinball game, instead, and Dean offers him a couple tokens to play while he turns his attention back to the rest of the dining area.

The emptiness of the place is incredibly unsettling, especially after spending time here during the day. Without any kids or even adults to fill the space, it just feels abandoned, like something that doesn't have any proper right to exist. Perhaps the worst of it all is the stage- three animatronics stand there, poised to continue their earlier performance, but for now, they stand perfectly still, a horrifying tableau that makes them look less like friendly mascots and more like a handful of characters that belong in the realm of nightmares.

The pinball machine fills the relative silence, and Dean tries to focus on that. Just a little bit longer, and with any luck, they'll be out of here for good- he doesn't want anything else to do with Freddy Fazbear's, and the sooner it's left behind them, the better.

All of that kind of falls apart when a brief, metallic grinding sends shivers right down his spine, prompting him to slowly turn his head towards Pirate Cove.

The curtain is moving.

He isn't the only one who's noticed, apparently, because Sam's looking, too, eyes big and wide with excitement as he abandons his game, uncaring of the low "game over" buzz. "Foxy?"

"Sammy, Foxy's sleeping," Dean tries to tell him as if saying the words aloud will make them true, but Sam's not listening, already starting to move across the room. "Hey, hold on!"

He's left with no choice but to follow his little brother, a heavy feeling of dread starting to build in his chest with every step they take. The sounds don't stop, and the curtain continues to shift minutely, disturbed by some sort of hidden movement, and when they finally reach that little barrier, it's just in time to see the hook hand poke out from the gap.

"He's not sleepin'," Sam announces, and Dean gets a hand on his brother, scared of what Sam might try to do. "I wanna see him!"

But the curtain opens all on its own, then, and suddenly, Foxy's there, just like the day before. Just as tall and just as creepy, Dean thinks, except that now he's supposed to be turned off like all the other animatronics and instead he's moving, standing up a little straighter and letting out a short, mechanical screech before turning and starting to walk.

Sam's already following, transfixed, and Dean barely manages to stumble along. His mind is racing, circling around the same thought, over and over again- something is terribly, horribly wrong here, and that's only cemented as Foxy steps right over the barrier and onto the main dining room floor, digging grooves into the tiles with his footsteps and prompting Sam to let out an excited little squeak as he continues to follow.

Foxy doesn't move like living things are supposed to. Dean knows he shouldn't be surprised- Foxy isn't alive, after all- but it's still fundamentally disturbing, the way he jerks and halts and creaks with every shift of weight. It's not until now that Dean really notices how tall the animatronic is, too- Foxy easily towers over them both, and Dean's pretty sure he's even taller than Dad. Everything about this sets off alarm bells in Dean's head, but instead of turning and running away, instead of going to find Dad so they can leave this place for good...

Instead, he just keeps following his brother. Sam seems determined, and right now... right this second, they aren't in immediate danger. No matter how scary Foxy might be, he isn't hurting them, and there's something inside Dean- something he can't identify- that drives him to continue down this path. Even when he catches a whiff of something past the pizza- something that reminds him of Dad's job; of graveyards and dirty work and death- he keeps marching on, determined to see this through to the very end. That same part of him knows that there's only one way they're really going to leave this place behind them, and he won't find out how unless he trusts this horrifying machine.

When the same metallic groaning starts from behind them, Dean doesn't need to look to know that the other animatronics have started to follow behind, abandoning their posts on the main stage.

Dean puffs out his chest and squeezes Sam's hand tightly in his own, trying to draw strength from his little brother’s closeness.

Time to end this.

* * *

The dining room is too quiet when John arrives. He's panting, every single one of his senses in overdrive as he tries to locate his children so that they can leave this place, but it quickly becomes apparent that it's going to be harder than he'd hoped. The boys are nowhere to be seen as he does a primary sweep of the room, and it seems that he's entirely alone until he spots a hint of movement, off near the front entrance. Barely a shadow.

John moves quietly, even as he hears Nathan come in behind him, obviously trying to catch up. "Agent? Where did you- Mr. Afton?"

That's all John needs to hear. He doesn't waste any time as he moves closer, not bothering for stealth now as he locks his eyes on the man. There's no mistaking his appearance now, even in the low light of the restaurant, and as soon as he's close enough- Nathan's in the middle of an explanation, that there's somebody here to inspect the place, that Mr. Afton should probably talk to him- he's moving in fast and hard, grabs Afton by the front of his shirt and slams him into a wall.

"Get out," John says before Nathan can gather himself, and he's thankful that the kid doesn't ask any questions before bolting. Afton looks a vaguely curious, but there's a dullness to the expression that suggests his capacity for emotion is limited at best. Not surprising. "Real ballsy comin' back here."

Afton raises an eyebrow. John stares him down. "I don't believe we've met, but I assure you, I work here. Chief technician-"

"Cut the bullshit." John shoves the man a little harder against the wall and takes pleasure in the pained grunt he lets out. "I know what you are, Afton. I know what you did."

* * *

The farther away they get from the main dining room, the harder it gets to ignore the smell. The old pizza fades into the background and instead, all Dean can think about is the overwhelming smell of death- of rotting flesh, something that chokes him and makes it hard to continue forward. If Sam notices, he doesn't say anything, something distant in his expression that worries Dean as much as it encourages him to stick close to his little brother. He's got no idea what's waiting for them, wherever the animatronics end up leading them, but he knows that he needs to find out.

Foxy takes them to a door in the farthest corner of the restaurant, tucked away in a hallway that loops back behind the stage. It doesn’t look like it’s supposed to be opened, either- it's got a couple boards haphazardly nailed across it, and a large "DO NOT ENTER- GUESTS OR EMPLOYEES" sign makes it clear that they aren't meant to be here. That doesn't seem to stop the animatronics, though, as Foxy slowly raises his hook hand and catches the boards. Dean's sure, somehow, that an animatronic built to entertain children shouldn't have enough strength to break through solid wood, but that's exactly what Foxy does as the boards are torn off the door. Dean's quick to pull Sam out of the way, and within moments, the door is open, and Foxy is continuing forward. The other three animatronics march inside behind him, and Dean takes a deep, shaky breath, clinging to his brother.

"Dean," Sam says, and his voice is real quiet. Not scared as much as it is concerned, and far too old for a little kid. "We- we gotta see."

It's already too much. Sam's too little to be this involved in something so scary, but there's no turning back now and Dean can only nod. He doesn't let go of Sam's hand as they move into the darkened room, and it's only when they step past the threshold that the lights turn on, quick and garish in a way that blinds Dean for a short moment.

When he manages to open his eyes again, slow and careful, he really just wishes he hadn't.

The room is full of parts, and it takes Dean a long few seconds to identify them. They're pieces of the animatronics, he thinks, each in varying states of disrepair. Metal parts, furry parts, parts he can't identify; it's impossible to resist the urge to get closer, and he barely registers the way that all four animatronics are watching as he and his brother move towards the middle of the room. In the far back corner, there sits a fifth animatronic, clearly older than the others- bits of it have been torn off, and its eye sockets are empty. Slumped over the way it is, there’s no question that the thing is dead in every sense of the word, and it’s disturbing in a way that it has no right to be.

The whole scene makes Dean think, unsettlingly, that this is where the animatronics are torn apart when their lives end. Maybe, if they're lucky, they get put back together, too. Painted anew and sewn up and sent out once more to continue their purpose of entertaining children.

He's got a sneaking suspicion that most of them aren't.

It's not until he's real close, though- close enough to reach out and touch the jagged metal bits that should, by every right, never see the light of day- that Dean notices the blood.

It's on the floor, mostly. It could almost pass for some kind of oil stain, but there's an unmistakable red tint to it that makes it clear what caused the mess, and as soon as he spots it, he very quickly realizes that it's everywhere. There's blood on the floor, and some splattered on the walls, and some that's clinging to bits and pieces of animatronics scattered around his feet, and oh, God, the _smell_ -

Dean's so close to throwing up that he nearly falls to his knees, holding Sam's hand white-knuckle tight like it's the only lifeline he's got left, because it isn't just the blood, either; it's the tiny pieces of rotting flesh caught on the metal parts of the animatronics, the chunks of hair that peek out from smiling mouths, it's everything in the room that screams of something horrifying happening, and every one of his instincts that's telling him he needs to _run_.

"Dean," Sam says very quietly, and it's the only thing that pulls him from the verge of a breakdown, wild eyes settling on his brother instead of the carnage that surrounds them, and Sam's not looking at him- he's looking at the animatronics who stand around them, the four who've remained quiet and still since entering the room. Waiting. "They want to go home."

* * *

Afton stays silent for a long moment after John's accusation, and John just keeps watching him, tracking every minute muscle twitch that hints at a thought process. "I don't know what you're talking ab-"

"The kids." That shuts him up real quick, and John doesn't waste the opportunity. "You killed those kids, didn't you? Got off scot-free 'cause nobody could pin it on you, huh?"

Afton stays silent, and John keeps going. "That how you get yourself off? Killing a bunch of innocent kids, taking them from their families? Hiding their bodies in your shitty restaurant? Where'd you put them, Afton?"

More silence, and John gives him a hard shake. Afton isn't a big man, and judging by the look of him, he would benefit greatly from eating more often. "What, you don't have anything to say?"

"I didn't want to kill them." Except that as he says it, Afton maintains a perfectly even expression, like he's assessing the way John reacts. "I had to. It's the only way, you see. Surely, you'll understand if you just-"

"Understand what?" John can't help the way he barks out the words, angrier and more disturbed the longer the guy talks. "What are you-"

"You're a father, yes?" That stops John short, and he bristles, remembering the way the guy had been looking at his kids. "You'd do anything to keep them safe. To help them."

John doesn't like where this is going, and he tightens his grip in Afton's shirt. "Where the fuck are you going with this?"

"I was a father, too, once." And he sounds almost wistful, and John hates it, wants to shake it right out of him. "I still am. And I'm still trying to help my children. I'm trying to fix them, and this is the only way. Surely, you would do the same."

That's all that John cares to hear. He can see the look in Afton's eyes, and listening to his words- God, John doesn't want to know what fucked up train of thought has led him where he is. There's no place in the world for a man this twisted, and after the justice system let him go the first time around-

Well. John's never liked leaving a job half-done.

He's damn glad he came packing, because it's the easiest thing in the world to reach behind him with his free hand and pull his .45 free, pressing it right up under Afton's chin and trying not to be chilled by the incredible lack of response it earns from the man. Shoves it in a little harder just to see if it'll make him flinch.

"Do it," Afton tells him, and there's no inflection in his voice. Just tired, bored acceptance. "It's been too long."

John doesn't let himself over-think pulling the trigger, because he knows it needs to be done. He knows that it's the only way he can keep these kids safe, and the only way he'll be able to bring himself to rest along with the spirits that linger here after their deaths.

William Afton slumps, lifeless, against the wall, and John steps back to let him hit the ground. It feels empty the way that murder always does, and he takes a deep breath before putting his gun away.

Nothing left now but to keep going. He isn't quite finished yet.

* * *

All the energy seems to go out of Sam at once, and Dean has to grab for him, trying to keep his brother upright. He's scared, and he's worried, but Sam's smiling the way he does when he's sleepy. The animatronics are still watching them, but they don't otherwise move as Dean starts to pull Sam back towards the door, intent on leaving as quickly as his legs can carry him.

"They're better now, Dean," Sam mumbles, and his eyes are closed, and Dean just wants this to be over. "It's okay now."

Dean doesn't believe that for a second, and as soon as they leave that room behind them- he doesn't even bother closing the door, feeling the way the animatronics are staring- he does exactly what he's been taught to do when things get bad.

"Dad! Daddy, _help!_ "

* * *

It takes John roughly seven seconds to reach the boys after he hears Dean's cry for help, and he doesn't waste any time in scooping them both into his arms, checking them over for injury. Sam seems to be mostly asleep, but his breathing and pulse are normal, and it's Dean's expression that really worries him the most. Afton forgotten for the moment, John focuses on that, already turning to carry them out of the restaurant. "What happened?"

Dean's clinging to him in a way that John hasn't seen in years, and he's shaking, too, but the authoritative tone of his voice must kick the kid right into business mode, because he's talking, shaky but clear, a moment later. "The- the animals, they... they led us to the back, to this room, and there was..." Lowers his voice to a whisper and gives Sam a scared, anxious glance. "There's blood, Dad, there's- there's lots of blood, and..."

And that's all that John needs to hear for all of the pieces to suddenly click into place.

"Dean, listen to me," he says, and he keeps his voice low and soothing. "I'm going to put you and Sammy in the car, and then I'm going to deal with this, okay? I'll lock the doors, and I'll be right back. Can you stay there for me?"

Dean takes a big, shaky breath, and he rubs hard at his eyes as John brings them outside. "Can- can you turn the lights on?" he whispers. "An' the music?"

"Yeah." It breaks John's heart to see Dean in this state, and he shoves the guilt aside to deal with later. He needs to finish this job. "Of course, buddy."

The car is a welcome sight for them both, and John's quick to get the boys curled up together in the back seat. He wraps them both in a spare blanket and leaves the engine running, one of his cassette tapes queued up to play Metallica, real low. He knows it calms Dean down, and that's what he needs the most right now.

"Just stay right here," he murmurs as he checks on the boys once more. Meets Dean's scared eyes and leans in to press a kiss to his son's forehead. "I'm going to deal with this. You did so good, kiddo."

Dean nods quickly and he's hugging Sam like an oversized teddy bear, burying his face in his brother's hair. "Be careful," he whispers, and John nods before he closes the door.

Time to end this.

With Nathan already long-gone, John knows that the restaurant is empty, and he knows that there's no salvaging this place, so soaked in blood and suffering as it is. He takes the gasoline with him and doesn't waste any time in getting to work once he steps back inside the building. It all needs to go.

After dousing the dining room- and Afton’s body along with it- he gets the empty main stage and the office, then the storage room, then very slowly makes his way towards the back room that Dean had mentioned. He doesn't miss the wooden boards on the floor, clearly discarded, and when he looks inside to see all four animatronic animals, seated and powered down, surrounded by a mess of carnage, both human and mechanical, he decides that maybe he's better off not understanding every detail of what happened in this place.

Still, he can’t help his own twisted curiosity when he gets close. Even shut down as they seem to be, it feels wrong to get close to the animatronics, and it becomes very clear why that is when he cautiously looks inside the bear’s wide-open mouth.

He’s seen a lot of corpses in his line of work, but it still takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at when he sees a second, smaller set of teeth past the ones that are part of the endoskeleton inside. Combined with the stench of rot that overwhelms the entire room, John thinks he’s going to throw up when he puts the pieces together and figures out exactly where Afton had hid the bodies.

He takes extra care to douse each animatronic suit in gasoline along with the bloodied floor before he turns to leave, adding a heaping dose of salt into the mix of accelerant and giving one last look around the room. The fifth animatronic, a rabbit that might’ve once been a bright yellow, has his skin crawling for reasons he can’t identify, but it’s a mystery he doesn’t care to solve as he leaves the room behind and casts his eyes around the restaurant on his way out. There's something horribly sad about the state of it, and knowing what brought it to such disrepair, but there's nothing to be done now but to wipe the slate clean and leave nothing behind to salvage.

There's something cleansing about fire, he thinks.

The whole place goes up like dry tinder when John drops the match, and it's almost worrying how well it burns. Must be the old structure, he thinks, but it's none of his concern anymore as he slides into the driver's seat and gets them on the road, eager to leave the scene behind and avoid any police investigation.

He's got a feeling that it won't go very deep. He doesn't need to be a local to understand that Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was far from a pillar of the community.

The restaurant lights up the night sky in his rearview mirror, a pillar of smoke going up in its wake as the sirens start to sound, and the boys sleep right through it, curled up tight together in the back of the car. They're safe, now, and that's really what matters most to him- what reminds him, chillingly, of Afton's words.

_"Surely, you would do the same."_

John swallows down the echoes of truth and presses down hard on the gas. They've all earned a proper rest for the night. Maybe he'll let the boys curl up with him, too, just 'cause. He thinks they could all use a little reassurance right now, after the events of the night.

Sometimes, he just needs to remind himself that his boys are still here. Despite everything that's tried to take them away from him, despite the odds, despite the entire world trying to tear their little family apart-

They're still here. They're still his. John won't allow anything to ever change that.

* * *

Dean is still tired when he wakes up the next morning, curled up tight with Sam in his arms and Dad holding them both. It's impossible to forget everything that happened last night, but in the sleepy blur of the early morning, he can shove it to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the soft grumbling in his tummy and the way that Dad's starting to wake up, a soft grunt that Dean feels against the top of his head suggesting it won't be long before they're moving.

"Dad," Dean says, voice soft 'cause everybody's grumpy when they wake up, "are we gonna stay here longer?"

It takes Dad a few seconds to reply, and he sighs, first, pulls the both of them closer. "No," he says, and Dean feels relief settle hard in his chest. "We're gonna hit the road today, kiddo. Just as soon as we're... awake."

That's good enough for Dean right now, and he nods, curling closer and burying his nose in Sam's soft hair. His brother smells like something fresh and clean, despite where they spent the night, and Dean's thankful for it. "Wanna go soon," he mumbles, but his eyes are already closed, and he thinks that maybe it won't be so bad if he just sleeps a little bit longer, in the meantime.

When he stirs next, Dad's not in bed anymore, and Dean hears him shuffling around. It's a familiar routine from there, and he lets himself be coaxed out of bed with the promise of breakfast on the road. Dean's still mostly asleep on his feet, but he takes charge of leading Sam through the motions of getting ready for a day of travel, making sure his brother is dressed in comfy clothes and mostly groomed, and that they aren't forgetting anything when they pack up their things in the room. Sam insists on keeping his sunflower seeds in his pocket, and Dean doesn't fight him too hard on it. He's just glad his brother doesn't seem to be clinging to what happened the way that Dean is. Parts of it are blurry, especially after being carried out of the restaurant, but he tries not to linger on the details.

Dad manages to herd them into the car within an hour, and Dean yawns as he settles in the backseat, Sam scrambling in before him to claim the driver's side window. Dad starts the car, and the radio comes on, too- local news, it sounds like, and Dean isn't listening until suddenly he is, unable to help himself.

"-Fazbear's Pizzeria has burned to the ground. Only one body has been found so far, and police are looking into the possibility of foul play-"

Dad switches the station to something playing soft rock, and he snorts. "Their pizza wasn't any good, anyway," he mutters, and turns the music a little louder, just enough to drown out the questions in Dean's head.

He still doesn't completely understand everything that happened. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to, anyways, but... some small part of him knows, without needing to be told, that he and his brother helped their dad do something good last night. They're leaving town 'cause the job is finished, and Dean- Dean knows that he helped finish it.

He gathers Sam up in his arms so they can sleep some more, and it's not until right before he closes his eyes that he notices his brother holding something. "Where'd you get that?"

It's Foxy. It's the plushie that he tried so hard to win for Sam the other day, though it feels like it's been weeks since his battle with the claw machine. Dean never won the game, and he never saw Dad playing it, either, but Sam's already dozing off, hugging his plushie tight to his chest, and Dean has a feeling that he isn't going to get an answer.

Maybe this is one of those times when he doesn't really want or need one.

With that in mind, he finally allows himself to close his eyes, focusing on Sam's breathing and the engine's rumbling and the knowledge that things are a little bit better now in the world.

That's what he thinks about, most days. When he can't sleep because of the nightmares, because of the monsters that prowl through the shadows and hurt people, when too he's scared to close his eyes in case they find him when he can't defend himself-

Dean just thinks about his dad making the world a better place. He thinks about his dad being a hero. Dean thinks that he wants to be a hero, too, one day.

That's the thought that sends him right to sleep, warm and soft and content in the knowledge that Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria will be far in their rearview mirror by the time he opens his eyes again.

It's more than enough to push everything else from his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3
> 
> For anybody who knows anything about FNAf, you know that canon is a bit of a mess. I did my best in this story to stick to widely-accepted theories and timelines for things, but there's definitely some mashing up of the 1-4 universe with the Sister Location and book ones. Hopefully, it makes some measure of sense (I didn't want to go into endless details about every facet of the backstory), but if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask!
> 
> Also: let's play "spot the YouTuber cameo."


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